


Make Your Choice

by Drarry4Lyfe2005



Category: The Selection Series - Kiera Cass, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Abusive Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Aged-Up Character(s), Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead Adopts Eri, Alternate Universe - No Quirks (My Hero Academia), Alternate Universe - Selection, Amajiki Tamaki Needs a Hug, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxious Amajiki Tamaki, Ashido Mina is a Little Shit, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Bakugou Katsuki is Bad at Feelings, Bakusquad Shenanigans (My Hero Academia), Bisexual Ashido Mina, Bisexual Disaster Kaminari Denki, Bisexual Iida Tenya, Bisexual Kaminari Denki, Bisexual Midoriya Izuku, Bisexual Sero Hanta, Bisexual Uraraka Ochako, Bisexual Yaoyorozu Momo, Bullied Tamaki Amajiki, Dabi is Todoroki Touya, Dyslexic Denki Kaminari, Emo Tokoyami Fumikage, Established Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, Gay Kirishima Eijirou, Gay Shinsou Hitoshi, I'm making this up as I go, Implied Sexual Content, Insomniac Shinsou Hitoshi, Kaminari Denki Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Mentor Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Mentor Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Minor Character Death, One-Sided Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto, Pansexual Bakugou Katsuki, Pining Ashido Mina, Pining Kirishima Eijirou, Pining Midoriya Izuku, Pining Sero Hanta, Pining Todoroki Shouto, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor Being An Asshole, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor's Bad Parenting, all the baku ships, all the girls are fucking queens, barely, bnha/selection crossover, bow peasants, can we stop for a minute here and talk about how adoptable tamaki is, change my mind i dare you, dabihawks - Freeform, depending on who the happy ending is for, dyscalciac denki kaminari, endeavor's a+ parenting, erasermic, everyone's pining for bakugou p much, except all for one, except baku x toga w h e n did they ever interact??, hawks and miruko are besties better than the resties, he was already old enough, hes literally h a l f kirishimas size lets be real, i dont blame them hes hot, im adopting tamaki amajiki, im also adopting denki, just kind of a dick, kamishin, kamishin deserve better than this, miritama, miruko is a fucking goddess, mitsuki and masaru's a+ parenting, mostly - Freeform, no hate just imo, not a polyfic, okay i was kidding before everyone really IS gay, okay some of them are straight but still, pansexual jirou kyoka, platonic ochamina, restraint? whos she, shinso is a part of the bakusquad, the bakusquad really needs a hug, the ships in the tags are misleading, this is such a mess, tododeku - Freeform, togatwice, us girls strive to have bakus tiny waist, you cant change my mind, you cant stop me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 65
Words: 251,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23233216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drarry4Lyfe2005/pseuds/Drarry4Lyfe2005
Summary: Katsuki Bakugou was next in line for the throne of Shizuoka, and he planned to rule his parents nation alone. Suddenly, he was being forced to hold his own Selection against his will in order to appease his parents and distract the citizens of their Kingdom from the impending war. The idea of romance both terrified and disgusted him, and he had no intention of looking for a partner within the group of 35 men and women who were coming to the palace to compete for his hand in marriage. But maybe, just maybe, love wasn't such a bad thing after all, and before he had even knew, he had fallen, and there was no way for him to pick himself back up again. All that was left for him to do. . . was choose.
Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Kaminari Denki, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Kayama Nemuri | Midnight & Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Shinsou Hitoshi, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Akaguro Chizome | Stain & Iida Tensei | Ingenium, Amajiki Tamaki & Hadou Nejire & Toogata Mirio, Ashido Mina & Bakugou Katsuki & Kaminari Denki & Kirishima Eijirou & Sero Hanta, Ashido Mina & Uraraka Ochako, Ashido Mina/Bakugou Katsuki, Bakugou Katsuki & Jirou Kyouka & Shinsou Hitoshi & Tokoyami Fumikage, Bakugou Katsuki & Original Character(s), Bakugou Katsuki & Utsushimi Camie, Bakugou Katsuki/Everyone, Bakugou Katsuki/Kaminari Denki, Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki/Monoma Neito, Bakugou Katsuki/Sero Hanta, Bakugou Katsuki/Shinsou Hitoshi, Bakugou Katsuki/Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu, Bakugou Katsuki/Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou Katsuki/Utsushimi Camie, Bakugou Katsuki/Yaoyorozu Momo, Bakugou Masaru/Bakugou Mitsuki, Bubaigawara Jin | Twice & Dabi & Toga Himiko, Bubaigawara Jin | Twice/Toga Himiko, Dabi/Takami Keigo | Hawks, David Shield & Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Eri & Midoriya Inko, Eri & Midoriya Izuku, Hatsume Mei & Iida Tenya, Iida Tensei | Ingenium & Iida Tenya, Iida Tenya & Midoriya Izuku, Iida Tenya & Midoriya Izuku & Uraraka Ochako, Iida Tenya & Uraraka Ochako, Jirou Kyouka & Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Jirou Kyouka & Yaoyorozu Momo, Kaminari Denki & Kayama Nemuri | Midnight, Kayama Nemuri | Midnight & Shinsou Hitoshi, Melissa Shield & Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Midoriya Izuku & Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku & Uraraka Ochako, Shouji Mezou & Tokoyami Fumikage, Takami Keigo | Hawks & Todoroki Shouto, Takami Keigo | Hawks & Tokoyami Fumikage, Takami Keigo | Hawks & Usagiyama Rumi | Miruko, Todoroki Fuyumi & Todoroki Natsuo, Todoroki Fuyumi & Todoroki Natsuo & Todoroki Shouto & Todoroki Touya, Todoroki Shouto & Uraraka Ochako, Todoroki Shouto & Yoarashi Inasa, Utsushimi Camie & Yoarashi Inasa
Comments: 308
Kudos: 276





	1. Introducing, Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to write this fic for a while now, and it's pretty exciting to finally be posting it. I hope its good, as of course I'm being overly critical of my own writing, but I'm personally pretty proud of this one.
> 
> Just to clarify, this is not a polyfic. For those of you who haven't read the Selection, they're competing to marry him, and he technically dates all of them, but he ends up only marrying one. Think of it as kinda like the Bachelor. 
> 
> If I make any mistakes or something along those lines, just tell me in the comments, and I'll fix it whenever I find the chance. I personally love constructive criticism, so don't be shy with telling me about any plotholes or errors I've made in the fic.
> 
> Seriously, I hope you enjoy reading this, because I enjoyed writing it for sure.
> 
> Also, if you enjoy this fic, then you'll probably like [The Choice Is Yours](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15880161/chapters/37002198) by Wanderer5 even more! I'd definitely recommend it ^^

The Queen sighed at the loud banging of a door, announcing her son’s entrance without anyone even having to look. No one else would be disrespectful enough to make some sort of a scene after a summons from the King and Queen.

“Katsuki.” Her husband, the King, spoke their son’s name softly, and with a smile. How he could be so tender with the annoying brat was beyond her. “Thank you for coming."

“Yeah, yeah, what the hell do you want?” Katsuki spoke harsh and quick, wanting to be absolutely anywhere but in the presence of his parents, demanding and controlling as they were. He stood across the room, as far from them as he possibly could be, refusing to move any closer at the moment.

“Watch your damn language,” Mitsuki chided, despite her own foul language. “We have something we need to talk to you about, so sit down, we might be here a while.” She gestured towards a chair sat across from where they were sitting at their desk, mounds of paperwork clearly shoved to the side in haste to make space.

Katsuki huffed and sat down in the plush red chair, hating the comfortableness of it. He crossed his arms and scowled at them. “Okay, and?”

“Show a little respect, you damn brat,” Mitsuki said crossly, annoyed by her son’s lack of respect for not only his parents but the King and Queen of this nation. Just because he was in line to be King didn’t mean he could treat them like shit, and Mitsuki was growing tired of his irrational behaviors.

“Like I’d listen to you, old hag,” he shot back, glaring intensely at his mother, refusing to back down. He wasn’t the type to give up on something easily, and neither was she, both of them being stubborn as hell. The only one either of them really listened to was the King, both because of his title and because of his soothing air.

“Both of you, calm down,” Masaru said calmly, and both his wife and son turned to look at him, deciding to instead ignore each other for the time being, as they most often did when not fighting. “Katsuki, I regret to inform you that you will be having a Selection of your own.”

Katsuki shot up, murderous intent clear in his crimson eyes. “What the actual fuck!?! I don’t need to marry to rule this damn nation, I’d be a better King on my own, so why do I need to hold some damn useless Selection?!” He shouted at his father, furious at the betrayal, and the fact he had absolutely no say in this. He was the Prince after all, and this is his future they’re discussing.

“Things with Shigaraki’s kingdom have progressively grown worse and worse, and no matter how many peaceful negotiations we attempt to make, they continue to attack our Kingdom. We can’t let the people know how close we are to being at war with them, and we need some way to distract them for the time being, keep them focused instead on another event of sorts. That’s where your Selection comes in,” Masaru explained calmly, ready for his son to lash out once again.

“So the two of you are just using me as some damn puppet?!” Katsuki was infuriated. How could they twist and manipulate his future like this? Either way they were going to war, why not let the people know and let them get used to the idea rather than bring more people here and put them and their families at risk?

“That’s not it at all Katsuki, but I’m afraid there is nothing you can say or do to stop this Selection from happening. You don’t have to genuinely look for a partner, but we need you to let this go on for some time to distract the citizens of Shizuoka. But I also recommend you take this Selection seriously, you could quite possibly find your future soulmate among this group of thirty-five beautiful women.”

“And men,” Katsuki added, glaring harshly at his father. If he didn’t have a say in whether or not this Selection was happening, he would at least have a say in the gender of the Selected. He never had a preference towards gender, instead deciding he needed to find someone articulately compatible with him rather than relying entirely upon physical attraction.

“You want both?” Mitsuki chimed in, confused on what her son meant. Katsuki had never openly considered the possibility of romance, and they had never truly discussed it before, so learning of his preference for both men and women came as a bit of a shock, but she recovered somewhat quickly.

“Yes. If I’m doing this damn thing, then I want it to be thirty-five women and men competing for my hand. Are we fucking done yet?” 

“Yes, you may go now,” his father said, smiling sadly at his son’s retreating form.

* * *

Akira was silently humming to herself as she cleaned His Highness’ room, not entirely sure when he would return. She got her answer only a few minutes later when she heard heavy footsteps walking up the hallway. She knew it to be none other than Katsuki Bakugou himself, her childhood best friend and resident asshole.

She started working at the palace at the young age of nine, a mere one year older than the Prince, who she had heard stories about. He was mean, and cocky and spiteful, surprising adjectives to be used to describe a mere eight year old. She had been assigned to boring and mundane tasks such as scrubbing the floors or pulling weeds, when one day the young Prince himself stumbled across her in the garden. She was supposed to be pulling weeds and trimming the bushes, but they had been starving her and forcing her to work insane hours, and she had nearly passed out from exhaustion.

Katsuki had used all his strength to lift her and bring her back. He didn’t struggle to lift her initially, her body light from malnutrition. He took Akira up to his room and fed her, and took care of her personally until she was in fit condition to work again. Afterwards he requested her to become his own personal handmaid, because of their similar age. She was the youngest girl to ever become a handmaid, especially for a Prince, and ever since then Akira has felt indebted to him. Despite their teasing and bickering, they were close friends, and Akira even had the honor of calling him Katsuki in the privacy of his room.

Akira could tell Katsuki was mad before he had even entered the room. She steeled herself for his explosive temper, knowing he would probably snap at her, but he was never actually mad at her in general. She grew used to it and didn’t mind the insults anymore, letting them go in one ear and right out the other. She had experience in soothing Katsuki and knew him inside and out, possibly even understanding him better than he understood himself.

She heard the door open and slam shut, not bothering to turn and look at Katsuki. “What’s wrong?” She asked calmly. Katsuki didn’t bother responding, just groaned loudly and flopped face-down onto his bed, screaming into his pillow. She sighed and sat on the bed beside him, rubbing his back in a soothing gesture. “That bad, huh?”

“My parents are making me have a Selection…” He muttered out, a mixture of anger and sadness in his tone. She knew how much he hates the idea of having a Selection. He believes that he can rule alone and still do a great job, and had always had the mindset of being someone whom 'extras' didn't deserve the time of. Akira disagrees with him, but he’s stubborn as a mule and has his mind made up. 

The handmaid sighed and laid down beside of him, her dark brown hair forming a makeshift crown around her head. “Katsuki, listen to me. There is someone out there in this world for you, and I know it for a fact. I think you know it too, but you just don’t want to accept it." Akira noticed that at the mention of love, the muscles in her best friends back went rigid. She knew she'd hit the nail on the head, and couldn't help the small wave of accomplishment that washed over her. Against her better judgement, she kept going.

"What is it Katsuki? What about love scares you so much?”

He sat up abruptly, and it took Akira's brain an extra second to take into account the angry, hot, briny tears leaking from the blonde's vermilion eyes. The handmaid had seen a great deal in her life, but she had never seen the blonde reduced to tears. Ever. That wave of accomplishment was rapidly morphing into a wave of heart-wrenching guilt, and her emerald-colored eyes widened in shock.

“What if they reject me?” The Prince's voice, normally rough and abrasive, had been reduced to small gaps in words where he let out small hiccups. The handmaid felt her heart shatter at the sight of her best friend being reduced to tears.

She smiled softly, masking any sign of her previous astonishment, sat up and placed her hand on top of his, rubbing her thumb back and forth over calloused and scarred knuckles.

“Katsuki, you're the most abrasive, standoffish, brash person I know-"

"HEY!"

"-but you're undoubtedly the greatest person I know. You're brave and smart and passionate and anyone who can't see that is an imbecile." Akira took the slight decline in the previously rapid tears as a sign that her friend was listening. "I promise that somewhere out there, there is someone who is going to love you, despite all those things. Hell, maybe this someone'll be part of the Selection. Why else would they come here other than to compete for your love?"

“Money, fame, the fucking crown,” Katsuki listed out through his sobs. “There’s so many reasons they could be here. How the hell am I supposed to know?"

“Only time will tell, I guess. Until then, don’t let it get to your head, okay? Focus on finding yourself a partner. Right now, nothing else needs to matter, okay?” She talked him through it, watching as the tears slowly stopped leaking from his eyes, and his hiccuping gradually stopped.

“Okay, okay, I get it." The blonde wiped his red, blotchy face, trying to hide all evidence of his breakdown. Slowly, he maneuvered his arms to wrap a tentative hug around Akira, who for the second time to today, was in complete awe of her friends actions. Nevertheless, she smiled warmly and reciprocated Katsuki's actions, wrapping her tan arms tightly around his middle.

“Now, when's this train wreck supposed to go down?”

* * *

“Mom, I’m home!”

There really was no point in announcing his presence, seeing as the house was small enough that his mother could easily hear the opening and closing of their front door, loud as it was. The hinges needed to be oiled desperately, but both mother and son agreed it wasn’t worth spending the money on, opting to just live with the obnoxious noises.

The house was dark. Unfortunately, the door wasn't the only thing wrong with the small shack that Eijiro and his mother called their home. The electricity had gone off, due to him and his mother not being able to pay the electric bill that month, since they were saving up for food so they could make it through the winter. The house was cold, the door sounded like a dying banshee, and every so often there was the occasional rat.

Eijiro was an only child living alone with his mother, of which was far too sickly to work. His father had passed away a few years back from a small epidemic, and recently his mother had grown tired and weak, unable to continue working without causing serious and permanent damage to her own body. Eijiro provided for both her and himself as best he could working the low-wage job of a Seven. 

Eijiro’s mother stood up from the singular chair at their kitchen table and slowly walked towards him, patting his shoulder and kissing him on the forehead. She managed a weak smile, but Eijiro’s face was clear with concern. “Mom, be careful,” he chided, guiding her to her makeshift bedroom, a pile of worn blankets and pillows thrown on the floor in an attempt to make it at least somewhat comfortable for her. It meant Eijiro often froze during the night, but at least his mom was okay. His mother knew this, and usually snuck him a blanket or two when she woke up from coughing to the sight of her son shivering.

She sighed and sat down. “You worry too much, darling.” The woman spoke softly, holding her son’s hand gently in hers. “The Report will be beginning soon, dear, you should go. I know you enjoy watching it, especially _him_.” She winked at Eijiro on the word ‘him’, chuckling lowly as Eijiro’s face erupted in a blush as red as his hair.

Eijiro didn’t used to have that much interest in watching the Report; the operative word in that sentence being _used._ When the Prince had begun showing up every week. Something about the odd combination of blonde hair and deep crimson made Eijiro's stomach erupt with butterflies. Something about the way he seemed annoying and agitated in almost every Report made his cheeks flame up slightly. Something about the permanent scowl on the Prince's pale, unblemished face made Eijiro wish he could be there with him, as a friend, an enemy, or, and this was Eijiro's favorite scenario, as a lover. He would give almost anything for the chance to be near the grouchy royal just once.

The gap between them was huge. Eijiro was a measly Seven who worked low-paying jobs just to get slightly expired food on the table, as opposed to the Prince; a natural One by birth who never had to work to earn anything. The prince just had to ask for something and poof, there it was. Eijiro didn’t resent him for it, the life of a royal must be incredibly daunting and caging. The Prince didn’t choose that life, and sometimes Eijiro wondered if he still would if given a choice. He knows he himself probably wouldn’t.

Eijiro mentally chided himself for daydreaming again; the Prince seemed to have that sort of effect on him. He rushed around, cooking up something small and simple for his mother, and gave her a glass of water. “I have to go,” he said softly, kissing her on the forehead gently before making his way out of the house, deciding to forego dinner altogether. His mom smiled softly at his retreating form, feeling lucky to have a son as kindhearted as him.

Eijiro walked at a brisk pace through the streets, realizing if he didn’t get to the center of town soon he would miss the Report. When he got there, he noticed Mina Ashido was also in the town square, coming to watch as she almost always did. Eijiro wasn’t necessarily friends with her, although he wished he was bold enough to be. Almost everyone in their village knew of her. She was a Five, but easily popular among all castes, most likely due to her charm and fun personality. Eijiro had admired her for years, originally believing he might even have feelings for her before his gay awakening, courtesy of Katsuki Bakugou.

He snapped his attention back to the screen, already having missed the beginning of the announcements. Based on everyone around him expressions, nothing exciting had been said, so he relaxed and listened to the rest of this evening’s Report.

“One final announcement!” Hizashi Yamada, the loud and excitable blonde who hosts the Report, announced enthusiastically. “This year, our very own Prince Katsuki Bakugou will be holding his own Selection. _Anyone_ , boy or girl, can enter within the next two weeks, just…”

Eijiro couldn’t focus on the rest of what Yamada was saying, just stood and stared in shock. Many people cheered, some ran off straight away to sign up. All Eijiro could think was: _This is my chance._

* * *

“Mina, you here?”

Mina jumped slightly at the sound of the meek voice, whom she recognized as her younger sister’s. “Yeah, Hanako, I’m right here,” she called out, smiling when her sister’s precious smile came into view. Hanako came running straight into her arms, and Mina hugged her tightly. She absolutely adored her little sister, and she was glad to know the feeling was definitely mutual.

She was going over some new choreography she had set up, taking full advantage of the fact that one of her friends had an aunt who owned a dance studio. She had basically free rein of the place whenever there weren’t any sessions in progress, and she loved the calm tranquility the place emanated. When she was there, it was just her, and the music. It was as if nothing, for the time being, mattered.

But then things came crashing back into reality as she left. When she danced, she could pretend like everything was perfectly fine, and ignore the fact her family was struggling to make ends meet, and that her parents often skipped meals in order to feed her and her siblings. She was the oldest of six kids, and the only one old enough to work independently. Hanako was nearing the age, but she still couldn’t make a sustainable amount of money to truly benefit the family. But every penny counted.

Eight mouths to feed, and only three incomes was severely imbalanced. No matter how many jobs they took, and no matter the fact that they were always working, every second they could, it was never enough. Mina put on a brave face around her family and friends, and had begun to take after her parents, oftentimes skipping meals so her younger siblings had enough to eat. 

Hanako noticed, unlike the rest of her family, and made sure to chastise her older sister on it whenever the chance arose to. She made a point to split her dinner with Mina whenever she caught her sister in the act, and Mina was both grateful for the food but saddened that her baby sister had half her food robbed of her on those nights. “I brought dinner for us to eat on the go, since tonight’s the Report. You spent so long here, we’re already going to be late!” Hanako complained, tugging on Mina’s hand to pull her out of the studio and in the general direction of the town square.

It was no secret that Mina had been harboring the smallest crush on the Prince for many years. Hanako was much more verbal about her appeal to him, whereas Mina kept her amorous thoughts mostly to herself. She admired him greatly, and also saw within him an incredible strength, and fire, that not many possess. Her friends thought she was delusional, as she had never even met the Prince, only seen him through a screen. But she had always been a fantastic judge of character, and she didn’t think herself to be wrong this time around.

When she got to the town square, she saw many of her friends and immediately grouped up with them, chattering away absentmindedly as they watched the Report. Mina noticed from the corner of her eye, a spike of vibrant red, and peered around the crowd to see him; Eijiro Kirishima. With his red hair and blinding smile, he was hard to miss. Not to mention he was extremely handsome, although his timidity towards other caused him to be rather lonely and reclusive. But despite him being shy and adorably awkward at times, Mina admired him. She thought her life, as a Five, was difficult, but she couldn’t even imagine how him and his mother were faring, surviving on his singular paycheck alone. And yet, she never saw him without a smile.

She turned her attention away from the redheaded boy, and back towards the Report, silently cursing herself for letting herself get so distracted. She listened through each announcement, listening for anything vital involving war or any noticeable and impactful changes in the system. As usual, there was nothing, but it was still worth looking out for. “I think it’s almost over, we should get back soon.” Hanako said, gently pulling on Mina’s hand.

“One final announcement!” Yamada called out proudly, grinning from ear to ear. Both Mina and Hanako focused their attention back to the screen, foregoing their original plans to leave before the crowds all dispersed at once. “This year, our very own Prince Katsuki Bakugou will be holding his own Selection. _Anyone_ , boy or girl, can enter within the next two weeks, just go to the post office by the end of this week if you’re interested! All you have to do is write down your name and caste on a slip of paper, and after you’ve entered, next week we’ll be taking pictures of all the candidates, and sending applications to the Palace for names to be drawn in nine days’ time! The Selected will receive compensation for their time spent at the Palace. Thank you all for listening, and I’ll see you next week!”

Mina couldn’t think through the pounding in her ears, just had one goal, one destination: the post office. “Mina, are you crazy??! You can’t sign up! We need you here!” Hanako argued, trying to get her sister to turn around, to listen, but Mina was a woman on a mission, with a place to go. She was a fighter by nature, and had always had a bit of a competitive streak.

“You heard the man, if I get selected, you all will receive compensation for my stay there. Mom, dad, you, everyone, you will all be fine. There’s a slim chance I would get chosen anyways, but this is a huge opportunity. This is a chance for me to meet the Prince himself, and connect to him on a personal level, and the hope is for me to fall in love. I may be at a disadvantage, because I bet there are others entering who are already so head over heels in love they could genuinely lay down their life for the Prince and not regret it for a second. But if there is one thing I’m sure of about myself, it’s that I am not a quitter, and I will not back away from a challenge. If I get chosen, then I’m in it to win it, and you bet I’ll end this with a ring on my finger.” She turned on her heel, away from her little sister, who stood gaping for a moment before coming to her senses and running to catch up. Mina didn’t slow down for a second, her goal in mind, and absolutely nothing was going to stop her from achieving it.

* * *

There was a soft click from the door being shut discreetly. The softest sounds of footsteps were heard making their way down the hall towards the stairs, so quiet if you weren’t specifically listening for them, you wouldn’t hear them at all. “Where have you been?” A booming voice called out, breaking the calming quiet of the house.

Shoto turned silently towards the kitchen, now noticing his father sitting at the table, sipping at a near empty bottle of beer. He internally cursed at himself, but kept his outward expression neutral. “I may have missed something, because I’m not entirely sure when that became any of your business.”

Enji stood up and walked towards Shoto, glaring intensely. The younger found himself backing up in spite of himself. “I’m your father, so it is absolutely my damn business where the hell my son has been all night!” He yelled, and it took all of Shoto’s strength not to curl in on himself. “Go to your room and get some sleep, in the morning you will be sending in your application for the Selection.”

Enji sat back down, hand held so tight around his glass Shoto was scared he may actually break it. “The Selection?”

“Yes. Prince Katsuki is holding one of his own, and they’re allowing applications of any gender for the next week or so. Because of your age, you’re eligible to enter, so that’s exactly what you will do.” His father spoke firmly, making it very apparent that Shoto didn’t have any say in the matter. He sighed and nodded his head, the fight slowly draining out of him as he walked up to his room. He laid in bed for hours, tossing and turning, but sleep evaded him all night long.

In the morning he sent in his application, watching with dead eyes as he turned it in, praying not to be chosen. If he was, he had no intention of making any attempt to win.

* * *

Izuku had just gotten home from a stressful day at work, another taxing housekeeping job. His mother had sadly been unable to find much work recently, so she went out to town today, job-searching. He assumed his mother was still out, so he set his things down and began cooking a small, simple dinner for him and his mom. He kept an eye on the time, aware of the fact that the Report was coming on within the next half hour. He rarely missed the Report, although his mom often skipped it, coming to watch with him in the town every now and then.

They couldn’t afford a TV so Izuku instead went to watch in the heart of his town, where they had small screens to watch the Report from. Even Eights often managed to come by to watch the Report. Izuku, despite being very poor himself as a Six, always brought money with him to share with some unfortunate Eight who came to watch the Report. He hated how they were treated and thought it unfair. There was one orphaned little girl he was close to who was considered an Eight because she had no one to take care of her and no parents to base what caste she was born in. Izuku visited her on the regular, bringing food and money whenever he could afford to.

Izuku ate dinner absent-mindedly, leaving out a plate for his mom and a note saying he was going to town to watch the Report. He wrapped up a parcel of food and took a small portion of the money he had earned that day, deciding he had just enough time to make a small pit stop before watching.

He walked further away from the center of town, going towards dank, rotten smelling apartment buildings, most of which were abandoned since no one could afford to actually live in them. Instead they dwelled in the alleyways, and he could feel their piercing eyes on him as he passed. He gulped in spite of himself, but tried to shake off the fear. He subconsciously quickened his pace, trying to get where he was going without making a scene.

He was stopped by a hand wrapping around his wrist. “What’s that you’ve got there?” A deep, scratchy voice said, and he turned to look at the man, eyes fixed on the small bag he was carrying.

“I-It’s for a friend,” He stuttered out, managing a weak smile in spite of his fear. He may not dress rich, but he looked nothing like an Eight, poorly dressed and covered in at least an inch of grime all over. This happened often, someone found him with food or money, and he usually ended up giving some away, too kind to deny anyone here of it. He pulled out the money, handing it to the man, whose hand was still tightly gripping his wrist. “Here, you can have this. You need it more than I do.”

The man’s grip loosened, and he turned and walked away, going back to wherever he had been hiding out before. Izuku let out a sigh of relief and walked quickly to where he needed to go, not wanting another incident like that. He turned the corner, and was met with small, bright red eyes. “Deku,” She said with her sweet, child-like voice. Izuku still wasn’t sure of her age, but she couldn’t be in the double digits.

He smiled brightly, pulling out the food he’d saved for her. “Eri, I brought you something.” He sat down next to her and passed along the food, which she happily dug into. “How are you doing, Eri?”

She swallowed before speaking. “Good,” she said meekly. Izuku had realized early on she wasn’t one for many words. He smiled slightly and ruffled her hair.

“That’s good to hear. I’ll be back hopefully soon with more food, and maybe money next time. The Report is tonight, and if I don’t want to miss it, I need to get going now. Want to come?” He offered, and her eyes lit up. She loved going into town, and Izuku knew how much she hated always hiding back in these parts of the village.

She nodded her head fiercely. “I’d love to come!” She said, the beginnings of a smile forming on her face. Izuku laughed and picked Eri up, placing the small girl on his shoulders and started walking the way he’d come. He walked quickly, but not quick enough that Eri would notice, and they made it into the better parts of town with no kinks or issues.

The Report had already long begun by the time they made it, and Izuku’s face flushed as he rushed, trying to get to the front so he could see. He held Eri in his arms, not wanting to block others trying to watch, and listened to what was being said. It seemed Yamada was mid-announcement when he’d arrived.

“…Prince Katsuki Bakugou will be holding his own Selection. _Anyone_ , boy or girl, can enter within the next two weeks, just go to the post office by the end of this week if you’re interested! All you have to do is write down your name and caste on a slip of paper, and after you’ve entered, next week we’ll be taking pictures of all the candidates, and sending applications to the Palace for names to be drawn in nine days’ time! The Selected will receive compensation for their time spent at the Palace. Thank you all for listening, and I’ll see you next week!”

Izuku felt frozen in place. There was a mad dash sounding around him, but his focus was still on the screen, the words from the Report sounding over and over again in his head. “Deku..?” Eri asked, her timid voice breaking Izuku out of his reverie.

“Eri, do you mind if we make a quick pit stop?” Izuku asked, smiling nervously at the little girl in front of him. He waited for Eri’s agreement before putting the small girl back on his shoulders and walking in the direction of the post office.

* * *

Ochaco staggered under the weight of the heavy material, but powered through the pain and exhaustion in order to help out her parents in any way she could, attempting to make the workload easier for them. She was near collapse from pure exhaustion and strain when the weight suddenly lessened immensely. She breathed a sigh of relief, fatigue evident in her expression. Her father, and also her savior in this specific predicament, helped her carry the rest of the load in, despite her many protests. She was grateful for the help, but wary of the toll it might be taking on him. 

“Go get some rest, Ochaco,” her dad said, smiling slightly, letting the slightest cough escape his lips. “I can tell you need it.”

Ochaco shook her head, instead scrounging up some water for her dad, and making sure he drank it before leaving his side again. She knew she’d probably be painfully sore for the next week or so, but figured it would be worth it in the long run if it meant saving her parents from enduring worse than they already fared.

As a Seven, it’s better to be broad shouldered and strong, neither of which were words anyone would use to describe Ochaco at first glance. Anyone could argue her spirit was strong, but in terms of physicality, she was small and considerably weak among her family and friends, her muscles constantly protesting her actions through every day of work.

“You need rest more than I do,” she said, although anyone looking closely could tell he was faring much better than she. “I’ll cook us a dinner tonight, something small. You and mom rest up, I’ll probably be gone by the time you wake. I’ll leave dinner out for the two of you.”

Her father didn’t question her meaning when she said she would be gone when they woke. Practically everyone knew the Report was coming on tonight, and plenty were planning on finding some way of watching it, as per usual. Ochaco found an odd sort of peace watching the Report, as if it gave her somewhat of a reprieve from her tasking everyday life, working in construction despite being rather small and frail in terms of a Seven.

“Alright, I’ll rest up. Don’t bother with cooking, Ochaco, just grab something for yourself and you can head out. I’ll take care of your mother and me for the night.” He stood up and stretched, making his way through they’re small, cramped apartment towards where his wife was, already long asleep and snoring softly. He smiled at the sight of her, Ochaco right behind him.

“Are you sure dad? Dinner won’t take me too long to make, I’ll still have plenty of time to make it in time for the Report,” she protested, not wanting her father to overexert himself or work himself too much. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and smiled.

“I’ll be fine. Go watch the Report, I’ll talk to you more tonight, Ochaco,” he promised, kissing her softly on the forehead before slowly making his way towards his wife, who was fast asleep, laying down beside her and getting comfortable, waving his hand goodbye at his worrisome daughter. Ochaco sighed and turned away from her parents, grabbing a small parcel of food before making her way towards the town square.

She would be lying if she said the Prince wasn’t part of the reason she watched the Report so dutifully every week. He was known to be aggressive and arrogant, but she found him charming and extremely attractive. The Prince was nothing but a pipe dream, though. There was absolutely no way a measly Seven like her would ever have a chance with someone as incredibly brilliant and regal as he was. But then again, there was always that slim chance, the one that gave her hope for the future, and the possibilities lying ahead.

That hope is what she held onto for dear life as she walked away from her home that night after the Report, instead walking briskly towards the post office, carrying all her hopes and dreams with her as she went.

* * *

Denki Kaminari was a flirt, and every girl and boy alike within the area knew. He had made attempts to seduce any attractive male or female he happened across, sometimes warranting him dangerous and unwanted attention. He was a looker for sure, with styled blonde hair, a strip of which he dyed black in the shape of a lightning bolt, and electric eyes, the color of pure gold. Denki was small, smaller than most guys he knew, and never built up much muscle. Despite his attempts at bulking up, his figure remained thin and lithe, going well with his rather short stature, giving him an all-over adorable look.

Due to his small size, he was an easy target for people to take advantage of, and his tendencies to flirt with any good-looking passerby didn’t help his situation much at all. He was rumored about regularly, but he took pride in the fact that despite his many failed attempts at relationships, he remained a proud virgin. It was against the law to sleep with someone before marriage anyways, but many people in his village had spread the word that he had broken that very law, though he personally knew it to be untrue. 

He was a flirt, but he was not a whore. He rarely actually hooked up with anyone he lead on, often times being turned down before he could even finish what he had to say. He didn’t flirt to toy with people’s emotions, or to break hearts. He really only ever wanted someone to love him.

His parents were always distant, his older sister being the immediate favorite child. He tried not to let it get to him, but he can’t remember the last time he received a loving embrace from his mother, or a word of praise from his father. He went through many girls and boys, seeking someone who could fill the gap in his chest his parents brought him, but to no avail. He struggled desperately to love someone, anyone, and he began to think he just couldn’t. Maybe, as cruel as fate is, he was destined never to find love.

Or maybe not.

He rarely went to actually watch the Report, but he was wandering through town when he happened to see the screens, a flash of obnoxiously styled blonde hair; Yamada Hizashi. He shrugged and walked towards the crowd, figuring staying to watch the end of this week’s Report couldn’t hurt. He had nowhere to be, regardless. 

And that’s how he found out the Prince was having his very own Selection. His feet started moving before his mind had even processed all that was happening. The Prince was smart, handsome, decisive, and although he had rather aggressive tendencies, Denki could clearly see he cared deeply for his nation and his people. He figured a guy like him would be completely opposed to the Selection, but it was still a chance for him to take nonetheless. Denki wanted to find love. Scratch that—he _needed_ to find love. And maybe, just maybe, he could find just that in Katsuki Bakugou.

* * *

Neito sat comfortably on the couch at home, flipping mindlessly through a magazine, his younger brother beside him flipping through channels on the TV, trying to find something to watch.

“The Report’s coming on soon, just go to that channel,” Neito snapped, annoyed by his brother’s indecisiveness. He propped his feet up on the coffee table and continued looking through the magazine, waiting for the obnoxiously familiar voice of Hizashi Yamada.

Since Neito had the luxury of being able to watch the Report from home, unlike many people who could not afford TV’s, he watched it every Friday with no issues. It was often boring and uneventful, but he liked to be caught up on what all was happening within Shizuoka. Neito understood how close they were to being at war with the neighboring Kingdom a lot better than most others did, and he sat down every night hoping tonight wasn’t the night where they were going to tell them.

Neito listened patiently as the King and Queen droned through each boring announcement. It felt as if they just wanted something to say, but they didn’t really have anything to offer. That was until the end.

“One final announcement!” Yamada’s overly chipper voice roared. “This year, our very own Prince Katsuki Bakugou will be holding his own Selection. _Anyone_ , boy or girl, can enter within the next two weeks, just go to the post office by the end of this week if you’re interested! All you have to do is write down your name and caste on a slip of paper, and after you’ve entered, next week we’ll be taking pictures of all the candidates, and sending applications to the Palace for names to be drawn in nine days’ time! The Selected will receive compensation for their time spent at the Palace. Thank you all for listening, and I’ll see you next week!”

Neito looked up sharply at the news, the magazine in his hands long forgotten as he processed the new information. This was a huge opportunity, and the prize was too great for him to pass up. But to him, the Prince was not the prize at all.

It was the crown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is, an introduction for only a few of the characters, as writing out a full introduction for all 35 of the Selected would've taken me ages. I feel bad Todoroki's intro wasn't longer, since he's such an important character, but that's really all I could think up for him. 
> 
> I think I probably enjoyed writing Kaminari's intro the most, although it wasn't nearly the longest by far (I guess I went a little overboard for Deku and Mina, huh?).
> 
> Not sure when the next chapter will be out, but since I don't technically have school for who knows how long, I have much more time to write so I'll update whenever I have the chance to. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, I've already started the second one so the wait shouldn't be too long.


	2. The Names Are Drawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was notably shorter than the last, so they definitely vary in size. Don't expect 6500 word chapters for every update, because I can't guarantee that every time.
> 
> Personally, this chapter isn't really as good as the last one, but I don't think its all that bad either. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the last, or even hopefully more!

The day had finally come. The day Katsuki had been stressing over relentlessly for the past week. The day that Katsuki spent entire nights dreading over, running endless scenarios through his heads. Incidentally, most of those scenarios ended up with Katsuki getting rejected by the person he ended up choosing in the selection, getting disowned by his parents, and killed by the impending war. The blonde had no idea how those last two things came to happen, but they did, and it was enough to terrify him to drastic lengths.

Despite the amount of wishing and praying (and contemplating going as far as goat sacrificing), the day had finally come. From the minute he was woken up, Katsuki was rapidly thrown into a dark blue, velvety tuxedo and had his crown thrust upon his head. He'd been dragged forcefully to a dressing room where various stylists proceeded to do his hair and apply light makeup. Katsuki had protested at the makeup, but his shouts and curses did nothing when his parents where there getting styled as well.

The makeup and styling, which in actuality took and hour and a half, probably shouldn't have felt like fifteen minutes, but thanks to Katsuki's nerves it did, and all of a sudden Katsuki was in front of the entire nation on live television, about to draw the names of the soon-to-be Selected. Katsuki kept his expression neutral, but on the inside he was freaking the fuck out. After this, there was absolutely no turning back.

Yamada gave a small speech before the drawing began, but Katsuki could barely hear it over the sound blood pounding in his ears. He sat currently in his throne, and he knew once Yamada was done that he’d have to stand and walk towards the first bowl, representing Sector 1 of Shizuoka. There were 7 Sectors, meaning he’d have to draw 5 names for each Sector. He didn’t really trust his legs at the moment, fearing they’d collapse from beneath him if he tried to stand, much less walk.

Thankfully, he managed it. He didn’t recognize his own voice as he walked towards the first bowl, drawing the very first name.

“Mezo Shoji,” he called, his voice ringing loud and true. He was shocked by his own voice, thinking it would surely betray his fear to the public. Instead, he continued and called out the next name. “Mina Ashido.” So far, so good.

“Rikido Sato. Neito Monoma. Eijiro Kirishima.” He read through the names quickly, hoping to get past this and move on, collapse in his bed and forget about his stressful life for just one night, and spend time with his best friend in an attempt to mentally avoid his problems.

He stalked towards the next bowl, representing Sector 2. He took a deep breath and pulled a name out from the many slips of paper, possibly hundreds waiting inside. Did that many people really have that much of an interest in him? “Hitoshi Shinso.” The thing that caught his eye was at the bottom, on the paper where the applicants were meant to write their caste. _Eight._

He drew the next name. “Koji Koda.” Another name. “Izuku Midoriya.” That name brought a stinging sense of familiarity, although he couldn’t exactly place it. _Midoriya. . ._

He pushed the thought to the back of his mind as he drew the next two slips. “Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu.” Katsuki had to forcefully refrain from laughing at the name. He cleared his throat and continued on with the last name from Sector 2. “Yo Shindo.”

Sector 3. He wasn’t even halfway done, and all he wanted was to be finished and done with this. He rushed through the names of the Selected in this Sector, not pausing in between each name. “Shoto Todoroki. Hado Nejire. Uraraka Ochaco. Inasa Yoarashi. Bibimi Kenranzaki.” He almost stumbled over the last name, but corrected himself in time, a faint blush adorning his features. He only hoped no one noticed his flub.

Time for Sector 4, which he powered through with no issue. “Camie Utsushimi. Awase Yosetsu. Momo Yaoyorozu. Tsuyu Asui. Denki Kaminari.” None of the names had really stood out to him so far, although he guessed that was difficult considering the slips contained nothing more than names and castes. The only two who had made an impression so far were Shinso and Midoriya, but he had no idea what the two would be like in person.

He absentmindedly made his way towards Sector 5’s bowl, wondering what kind of people he’s going to be letting into the palace. For a second he almost felt bad for leading all these people on by holding the Selection, since he had every intention of sending all of them home in the end. “Ibara Shiozaki. Hanta Sero.” He wasn’t looking to get married, and he planned to make himself seem undesirable from the start. “Itsuka Kendo. Mei Hatsume. Tooru Hagakure.”

He and Akira had worked out a plan of sorts. He wanted to come off as intimidating from the get-go by eliminating ten of the Selected on the first day. “Mirio Togata. Kyoka Jiro.” He wanted it to be clear from the start that this wasn’t a game to him, and they shouldn’t view it that way either. “Mashirao Ojiro. Tamaki Amajiki. Pony Tsunatori.” Sector 6, complete.

The final Sector; Sector 7. After these next 5 names, he was done. He breathed a sigh of relief and let the smallest hint of a smile cross his face. He was so close to being done. “Minoru Mineta.” For some reason, the name left an odd taste in his mouth, and it wasn’t pleasant. “Fumikage Tokoyami. Tenya Iida.” Two more to go. “Komori Kinoko. Yuga Aoyama.”

And just like that, he was done. He spent the rest of the night lounging in bed watching movies with Akira, temporarily distracting his mind from the Selection, and the surplus of men and women alike who would be showing up tomorrow at the palace to disrupt his already hectic life. The worst part was: they’re all coming, guns blazing, with the full intent of marrying Katsuki.

In other words, he’s incredibly, undoubtedly, and undeniably fucked. 

* * *

The Selected were soon swarmed by the press, as well as royal officials who came to take their measurements and find out more intimate and private details about their lives. One man came to ask the candidates whether or not they were a virgin, and Denki dejectedly noticed his sister giving him the side-eye when he said he still was. Apparently even she had fallen victim to the rumors being spread about him.

Any of the Selected that were below the caste of a Three were considered Three’s, since it’s hard for them to adjust back into everyday life after being in the palace for an extended amount of time. They would also receive weekly compensation for their participation in the Selection, which Eijiro breathed a sigh of relief at hearing. He wasn’t sure how his mother was supposed to survive without him there to provide for her.

They barely had any time to pack or prepare before they were expected to leave for the palace, given a small chance to say goodbye to their friends and family before departing.

Izuku took off at full speed, running until he was met with frosty hair and crimson eyes. Eri. He hugged her tight and carried her back to where his mom and several officials were waiting.

“Mom, this is Eri. While I’m gone. . . I need you to look after her for me. She can even have my room! I won’t need it for the time being, so please. Do this for me?” He pleaded with his mother, but he already knew it would be a yes. Inko could never seem to say no to her baby boy.

Inko burst into tears and hugged Izuku tightly, not quite ready to say goodbye. “Of course I will, Izuku! Good luck, baby.” She wiped at her eyes as she pulled away. Izuku handed Eri off to his mom, and walked away from the two, excited for the chance to be with the Prince, but sad at the fact he was leaving Eri and his mom.

Everyone else’s departure seemed just as heartfelt, there being a few exceptions. Shoto left without a word to his father or anyone else, deciding against saying goodbye. Hitoshi didn’t have anyone to say goodbye to.

All across the nation, thirty five determined men and women made their trip to the palace, all with the same goal in mind: to win the Prince’s heart.

* * *

The Selected traveled in groups by Sector. Mina and Eijiro immediately sought out each other’s company, seeking refuge in the familiarity of one another. Neito sat separate from the others, sparing them all a scornful glance. Mina could feel a bad energy emanating from the arrogant blonde, and she figured his presence would be more of a nuisance than anything.

Izuku was drawn in by Hitoshi’s confident smirk and disheveled appearance. He attempted conversation with the purple-haired boy, but Hitoshi wasn’t very cooperative. Koda was too shy to speak to anyone, just sat alone in the corner, away from the others. Tetsutetsu noticed that Shindo and Izuku shared a strange similarity in appearance. The former mostly kept to himself, seemingly not interested in making small talk with the others, so Tetsutetsu decidedly joined in on Izuku and Hitoshi’s one-sided conversation.

Nejire pointedly avoided Bibimi, although she could tell the latter didn’t recognize her at all. Instead she animatedly made conversation with Ochaco, of whom she recognized she was surprisingly similar to in terms of personality. Shoto kept quiet, but he couldn’t help but be slightly perturbed by the unmasked glares Inasa was sending his way. He didn’t even know the guy, and therefore warranted no reason for so much hate to be directed at him.

Denki and Camie immediately got along well. They were both basically idiots but excitable and fun all the same. Their similar traits drew them towards each other, and they made easy conversation, filling the small carriage with laughter. Despite the fact they were all competing for the Prince’s heart, Awase seemed immediately taken with Momo, who he attempted to make constant chatter with. Momo tried to turn away, a little put off by his unabashed staring. Thankfully, Tsuyu saved the other girl by switching seats with her and making constant conversation, not allowing Awase to cut in, forcing him to instead join in the animated discussion Denki and Camie were holding.

The next group was a rather lively one. Ibara and Kendo were easily the most levelheaded of the group, and Hanta wasn’t far off. Mei was a bit eccentric as the others could tell, but she didn’t make for a bad conversationalist. Tooru was lively and cheerful, and the carriage was filled with jovial chatter the entire ride to the palace.

Mirio and Tamaki instantly sat together, glad they weren’t having to be separated because of the Selection. Kyoka was quiet and reclusive, and only spoke up a few times during the entirety of the trip. Mashirao was friendly enough, albeit a little plain, and Pony seemed to be in a state of constant confusion and disarray, making it somewhat difficult to hold a conversation with the foreign girl.

The last group was made completely uncomfortable by the presence of Minoru, who made a show of hitting on all of them constantly, and openly checking them out. It was unsettling, and they tried to make mindless conversation, but found themselves to be interrupted by Minoru with something pervy whenever they did, so they eventually gave up. Instead, they decidedly sat in an awkward silence the entire ride.

The Selected took photos and signed autographs for a short amount of time in their small groups of five. Eijiro was too shy to make an impression, but Mina dived right into the role, staying out with the crowds for over half an hour. Denki was similar, although he was rushed along by the others before he could stay for too long. The two left their mark though, and their number of fans increased considerably after the small, seemingly worthless encounter.

In the end, the winner of the Selection was the Prince’s choice, but if the past was anything to go off of, the people have almost as much say in it as he does, if not more. Making a good first impression was a vital part in doing well in the Selection. Many of the Selected worried over the fact that they hadn’t done nearly enough to get recognized. Already, this competition was cutthroat, and they hadn’t even met the Prince yet.

And they would meet him, all in due time. That’s the exact thing they were each stressed out over the most: what’s going to happen if they fail to make a good first impression on _him?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the names have been drawn. It wasn't easy to come up with 35 names if I'm being honest, and some of the characters are so random that I can basically guarantee they won't stay in the fic very long. 
> 
> After each chapter, I've decided I'm going to make a list of the remaining candidates and their caste. We haven't lost any as of yet, so I'll be putting the full 35 Selected:
> 
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Mineta Minoru – Two  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Kendo Itsuka – Seven  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Asui Tsuyu – Four  
> Hagakure Tooru – Four  
> Ojiro Mashirao – Six  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Shoji Mezo – Six  
> Shindo Yo – Three  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four  
> Aoyama Yuga – Five  
> Sato Rikido – Four  
> Koda Koji – Three  
> Tsunatori Pony – Two  
> Awase Yosetsu – Four  
> Hatsume Mei – Three  
> Kenranzaki Bibimi – Two  
> Komori Kinoko – Three
> 
> In case the castes confuse anyone, they're pretty straightforward. The highest caste is a One, which is only royalty, so obviously none of the Selected would be a One, although Katsuki is. Two is the second highest, and the lowest caste is an Eight. Eights are disfigured people, old people, orphans, etc. Twos are the rich and famous. Fours and above are considered well off, and have relatively easy and comfortable lives. Any caste below that are usually the poor, the ones who struggle with money and food.
> 
> Next chapter all the Selected are going to meet Katsuki, and talk to him one-on-one for the first time. I'm not going to go into detail about every conversation, just give a synopsis of each.
> 
> The next chapter may take a bit longer to write than the other two, since I personally suck at social interaction, so by default that also means I suck at writing about it as well. I hope you liked this chapter, sorry it was so bland. I didn't want to get into them meeting Katsuki in this chapter because I knew that might cause it to drone on, so it unintentionally ended up being kind of short.
> 
> Another thing, if anyone taking the time to both read my fic and my long-ass notes sees this, feel free to leave a comment on who you want his first date to be with. I haven't decided who I want it to be with yet, so if anybody has a preference on maybe who they ship Katsuki with, I can incorporate that by having them chosen for the first one-on-one date.
> 
> Not sure when I'll be updating next, but hopefully it's sometime soon. Sayonara!


	3. First Impressions Mean Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on making this chapter necessarily long, it just kind of happened. For some unfathomable reason I decided to write an entire paragraph on almost all 35 interactions between Katsuki and the Selected. Guess I went a little overboard again, didn't I?
> 
> Regardless, hope you enjoy the chapter!

The arrivals of the Selected were purposely staggered. Sector 7’s group was last to arrive, being the last to leave, naturally. The group approached the palace, eyes widening at the breathtaking view. It was an absolute work of art, and none had seen a place more refined as was the palace. It was absolutely a work of pure genius, and was as fortified as it was beautiful. It felt like a privilege just to be allowed to stand in the presence of something so pristine.

Tenya had a nice home, coming from a family of wealth as a natural-born Two, but he could’ve sworn he could fit his house, times six, inside the walls of the palace. That realization alone was nothing to scoff at, and some candidates immediately feared they would get lost in the winding hallways and the never-ending sets of seemingly identical doorways and arches. Many came from small, one-bedroom apartments, and in Hitoshi’s case, he didn’t have the luxury of having a home at all. A lot of the men and women had to adjust, but they weren’t complaining for sure.

The last five Selected to arrive were greeted by an intimidating man waiting to greet them at the entrance. He had long, mussed black hair, and a scowl was set on his face, and by the creases around his mouth it seemed his expression remained that way often. His eyes were a shady gray, seemingly black until they caught the light, revealing their true color. He had the beginnings of a beard growing from his chin, but for now it was faint. Below his right eye was a curved scar, and Tenya silently questioned how the older man had received it, but held his tongue.

“My name is Shota Aizawa,” the man began, and his voice seemed to immediately grab the five candidate’s attention. “I am one of the royal advisor’s to the King and Queen, and they have requested that I see to watching over and help orchestrate the Selection, ensure everything runs smoothly. I will also be training you five, as well as the thirty others who are already waiting inside. When you come in, I will lead you to a parlor where you will receive a simple makeover to make yourselves presentable for the royal family. Whatever you want done, the ladies inside will see to. Anything they suggest, you have the right to veto. Please, don’t make a fool of yourselves. You will all be meeting the Prince tomorrow before dinner, so be prepared for that. Follow me.”

Before any of them had a moment to process everything that had just been said, Aizawa spun on his heel and was off. The few Selected that were there rushed to follow after him. He led them through hallway after hallway, and they passed so many different doors that Yuga found himself getting slightly dizzy from all the twists and turns. He was so confused and out of focus that he didn’t notice Aizawa stop in front of too wooden doors, and he happened to bump into Tenya, who had been walking in front of him. The man hardly noticed the impact, but Yuga muttered out a quiet apology nonetheless.

“This is where you will receive your palace makeovers. You can make requests and they’ll make suggestions, but other than that all they’re obligated to do is bathe you. Afterwards, you will all receive a physical examination to see what condition your body is in and what state of health you’re in. Afterwards, you will be guided to your individual rooms by a member of the palace staff, and dinner will be delivered later tonight. Any questions?” He only paused for a second before continuing on. “No? Good. See you all tomorrow for breakfast.”

And just like that he was gone, leaving the group of five alone in the palace corridor in front of the looming doorway. They stood and stared, waiting for someone to step up. Tenya was the first to do so, taking a deep breath and pulling one door open, holding it for everyone else before silently following inside after Komori. Five older women rushed to greet them, and they were all whisked away to separate areas of the room.

Minoru was openly checking out each of the Selected left in the room in turn, making a few people shift uncomfortably in their seat. Denki didn’t seem to notice the pervy purple-haired man as he chatted amicably with the older blonde girl currently working on his hair. She was cutting and styling it as they talked, the pair easily getting along well, as Denki seemed to with almost everyone. He almost forgot about the others in the room until Itsuka spoke up.

“You know it’s rather unbecoming of you to stare at your competition in that manner so obviously. You _are_ here to compete for the Prince’s hand, are you not?” The orange-haired girl spoke with a chilling tone. She didn’t look at Minoru, but everyone knew her statement was directed towards him. They sat in silence, waiting for his reaction.

The short man huffed and glared at Itsuka, who met his gaze steadily. “I was just trying to see what all the others were doing to their appearance, and to know what I was in for,chill.” It was a lie and they all knew it, but Itsuka, not wanting to seem petty, dropped the subject, and the others hesitantly continued their disrupted conversations.

Denki was one of the last to finish up, despite him arriving a lot earlier than most of the people still left. He waved goodbye to the maid who had been taking care of him—Yu, she said her name was—and was guided to yet another room, where six men and women sat, receiving their physical examinations. He finished up just as the others were coming in, and he smiled and waved at the group before going out into the hallway to be guided to his room during his stay. He wasn’t sure how long it would be that he was at the palace, but he hoped it would be for the duration of his life.

* * *

The sheets were soft. Softer than anything Hitoshi had ever slept in. Then again, he was often used to sleeping on nothing but the cold, hard concrete. His maids seemed nice, but he was so overwhelmed that he sent the three of them away for the night to give him time to adjust. He hadn’t had a proper meal in days, and when he had eaten less than half the dinner the palace had provided, he felt bile rise in his throat as he ran to the bathroom to throw the food back up.

He wasn’t used to palace life, and the luxuries it brought with it. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to go back to life as an Eight afterwards, and he supposed that was why they moved everyone’s caste up to a Three, unless they were already a Three or higher. He nearly fainted at the news. 

Hitoshi wandered out to his balcony, hoping desperately for a breath of fresh air, but he still felt trapped, confined. Suddenly the room started spinning, the walls closing in on him. He felt as though he couldn’t breathe; it was just too much. It was too nice, too grand, but so, so caging. He felt trapped, confined in this larger than life palace. But no matter how grand it was, it wasn’t home.

He forced open his doors and staggered out into the cool hallway, leaning against the wall for support, hoping for nothing more than to be outside. But he couldn’t walk, couldn’t breathe, the walls were suffocating him and he could no longer feel his legs, just hear the blood rushing in his ears as his vision faded to black.

Suddenly there was someone there, holding him, speaking comforting words. They kept a tight hold on him, and held him upright, talking to him soothingly, telling him to breathe. He tried to do as he was told, but every time he took a breath, it felt wrong, and he started hyperventilating, and the stranger had to start the process all over again.

“Ou-outside—” he choked out, struggling to form coherent words through his shaky breaths. The stranger nodded, although Hitoshi was too dazed to see, and they started walking, the man more so than Hitoshi, who leaned heavily on him for support. Suddenly, they were outside, and Hitoshi sucked in a deep breath of clean, fresh air. It smelled much nicer than what he was used to, the stench of smoke and alcohol gone, instead there was an earthy smell in the air he wasn’t accustomed to, but it was such a relief to his lungs.

Hitoshi collapsed, leaning against the walls of the palace, shutting his eyes and taking in deep, gasping breaths, trying to absorb the comforting feeling of finally being outside, in the soothing air.

“Are you alright?” The stranger asked, and Hitoshi, for a moment, had almost forgotten he was there. He looked up with tired eyes at his savior, and they widened a bit when he recognized the man to be Aizawa, the royal advisor who had greeted them earlier that day, and he had taken an instant liking to, due to their similar personalities. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he grumbled out, cheeks flushing as the realization and embarrassment of what had happened finally caught up to him. “Not used to palace life, is all.”

Aizawa remained standing, but leaned against the wall besides where Hitoshi was sitting. “You were an Eight before coming here, correct?” He asked, looking down at the purple-haired boy.

“Yeah, yeah I am. Or—was, since I guess I’m technically a Three now,” he muttered, not used to the idea. It was a pretty big jump after all, and he was easily from the lowest caste out of all the Selected, although Hitoshi recalled there being a total of three Sevens participating in this Selection.

“Well, you’re not disabled or elderly for sure, so what’s the story behind your caste?” The older man said, his tone flat, but his eyes held curiosity and what Hitoshi could vaguely make out to be pity. He already knew the answer to this question.

“My parents ditched me when I was six. Too young to remember my caste, and too young to make a living for myself regardless. I’ve taken care of myself ever since, and I’m not used to living in confined spaces, no matter how big the palace may seem. It’s just one, big, beautiful cage,” he spoke gruffly, and Aizawa gave him a contemplative look. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing. Just thinking. Technically, the Selected aren’t supposed to be let out of the palace unless escorted by the Prince for a date, but I’ll bet you aren’t the only one suffering from homesickness or claustrophobia, so I’ll talk to some higher ups about the lot of you having access to the gardens. Would that work for you?”

Hitoshi let the barest smile grace his features before slipping back into his neutrally aloof demeanor. “That would work amazing. Thanks sir, I’ll be heading back to my room now.” He stood up and brushed off his trousers, walking back towards the looming doors leading inside the palace.

“Get some sleep, Shinso. You look like you need it,” He commented, referring to Hitoshi’s noticeable eye bags, due to his incessant case of insomnia.

The younger boy let out an indignant snort. “No promises.”

* * *

The Selected all woke up early that morning, dressing in their finest in order to make a lasting impression in the Prince’s mind before officially meeting him that evening. The three of Eijiro’s maids flew around the room in a frenzy, plucking clothes out of the closet and tossing them on the bed, trying to figure out what combination would and wouldn’t work. Eventually, they seemed to come to a decision, as they tossed a white button up and maroon colored vest at the red-haired boy.

He turned around, facing away from the three girls, although he knew they were too distracted to happen to look at him anyways. He put the collared shirt on and swiftly placed the dark red vest on over top. The girls swarmed him, covering most of the white undershirt with a black formal jacket, and he changed into pants to match the jacket as they tried to get him to wear a tie, which he declined. 

A tall brunette—Kanna, if he remembered correctly—sighed and pulled away. “The tie completes the look, you should really wear it,” she persuaded, moving once again to tie it around his collarbone, but he took a step back, away from the girl.

“I’d really prefer if I didn’t, it’s just a little over-the-top for me,” he reasoned, slowly backing towards the door. He casually, yet skillfully, unbuttoned the top part of his shirt so it hung open in a way that felt comfortable but still looked nice enough for him to be presentable. “Besides, I’m going to be late if I don’t go now. Thanks for the help, see you guys later!” 

He slammed the door behind him and marched down the hallways at a quick pace, knowing already that he was late. He got lost more than a few times, and a guard or maid passing by had to stop and give him instructions on where he was going, which he forgot minutes later. He hadn’t slept at all the night before, and his memory and head was suffering for it. Then again, he’d had to go many long, sleepless nights in the past due to the insufferable gnaw of hunger, or the chilling freeze that came along with the winter weather.

As he walked, briskly he might add, he suddenly thought of his mother. The paycheck he was receiving weekly was more than double his average salary, and he had been relieved to hear about the compensation as he hadn’t really thought of it when he applied for the Selection, but he hoped she was doing alright on her own. He didn’t have time to pursue the line of thought long, before he was in front of Aizawa, slightly out of breath from practically jogging to the Great Hall from his room.

“You’re late,” Aizawa noted, confirming what Eijiro already knew. “Go take your seat, you’re sitting at table two on the King’s side, in between the one with long lashes and the quiet one with the big forehead. Go.”

Eijiro bowed his head slightly before rushing to go and take his seat. He glanced at the two sat on either side of him, chancing a glance at their silver nametags. The girl, Bibimi Kenranzaki, had eyelashes the length of Eijiro’s hands, and curly golden-blonde hair styled in a half-up half-down. She was wearing at least an inch worth of makeup, and had lips so red they looked like they were bleeding, with a dress of a similar color. She was supermodel gorgeous, and Eijiro was a little off put by that, but decided not to dwell on it too long.

He examined the shy boy to his right, and Aizawa was right. His forehead was huge and abnormally shaped, although overall he wasn’t that bad looking. There were some stunners in the room by far, and Eijiro could tell this boy—Koji Koda—wasn’t one of them. But neither was he, so who was he to judge?

Everyone’s eyes were suddenly glued to the door as it slowly opened, the Queen being the first to enter. The King was right behind her, and the Selected waited with baited breath for the Prince to come in. Eijiro gasped at the sight of him. He was even more beautiful in person than he was through a screen, if that was even possible. His blonde hair seemed to defy gravity, falling in beautiful little spikes over his head. His crimson eyes remained fixed on his seat as he walked purposefully towards it, not sparing any of the candidates a glance. Eijiro felt slightly less self-conscious upon noticing the Prince wasn’t wearing a tie either.

Before Katsuki seated himself, he looked at each of the Selected in turn.

The first two weren’t all that impressive, but the third person in and he already was struggling to look away. The girl had short, curly pink hair, the color of bubblegum, and deep, tanned skin. Her eyes were the color of butter, a sweet, pale yellow, and she had a sparkly shawl wrapped over her arms to accentuate the unique color. Her dress was black, pitch black, and the neckline dropped dangerously low. Katsuki found her enticing and incredibly attractive, and had to basically force his eyes away from her, hoping she didn’t notice his staring.

He let out a sigh of relief, the next few people not exactly standing out. They were mostly plain looking, but he saw three people, all right next to each other, and he felt overwhelmed. He had been hoping they were all either ugly or plain, so he would feel less guilty, but as his red eyes met gold, he knew there was no chance of that happening. The blonde boy smiled an electric grin, and Katsuki nearly smiled back in spite of himself. The girl next to him was just as attractive, although it would appear she put in a lot more effort.

The amount of makeup she was wearing was ridiculous, and although the blonde girl with crisp curls and the longest eyelashes he has ever seen was stunning, she wasn’t real. Nothing about her appearance seemingly was, and so he turned to the next boy.

Red. The guy was absolutely covered in the color, and Katsuki blushed a similar shade. Red was easily his favorite color, and he thought the man looked really good in it. Really, _really_ good.

He scanned the next few with ease, although the way one of the men was looking at him made him slightly uncomfortable, although he didn’t dwell on it. The blonde boy next to him was attractive, but the manic grin taking up half his face was slightly concerning. 

Katsuki noticed two of the candidates looked surprisingly similar. One had green hair and one had black, and one of them was noticeably shorter than the other, but Katsuki didn’t miss the obvious resemblance between the two. Katsuki had to stop himself from groaning when he saw yet another man, attractive beyond belief. His hair was split directly down the middle, one side red and the other white, and for some odd reason Katsuki noticed his eyes were similar. One eye was grey and the other was an electric blue. His expression was stony and neutral, but he was handsome all the same.

Katsuki was glad to see he was almost done, glancing over the last seven before taking a seat and digging into his food, remaining ignorant of the Selection, and his family as well, for the duration of breakfast. He was the first to leave, and lucky for him, no one dared to follow behind him. The doors shut behind him with a loud bang, and he immediately went to his room to talk to Akira.

* * *

“I’m a little confused here. What’s the matter with them being attractive again?”

Katsuki groaned into his pillow. “The _last_ thing I need is to find out I’m actually fucking _interested_ in one of these assholes, and some of them being hot isn’t helping the goddamn situation,” he complained, and Akira chuckled at his antics.

“You never know, Kats. maybe some of them'll be complete assholes. Are you still planning to kick out ten people tonight?” She asked, taking his seat by his desk since he wasn’t sitting there. She allowed her elbow to fall comfortably on the armrest, falling back into the chair with a sigh.

“Yeah. Not sure how the hell I'm gonna do it, but by tonight at dinner, I’ll be down to twenty five extras.” He spoke decisively, but he honestly wasn’t sure if he could do it. Could he really crush the hopes of ten separate men and women in one night? Would he inevitably be able to do that to all thirty five of them? 

“You’ll be spending some time with each of them tonight after dinner. I mean, if there’s anyone that gives off bad vibes, or maybe is difficult to talk to just make them one of those you send home. Figure out the people you like, and be sure to keep them around. Simple.” She shrugged casually, attempting to ease the tension, but they both understood it was a lot easier said than done.

He sighed and rubbed a calloused palm over his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,” he scowled, and stood up, silently requesting Akira to move from where she sat.

The girl stood up, and he sat down at his desk, looking at the mound of paperwork he had shoved to the far right corner. He could really use a distraction right now. “I’ll leave you alone for some time to think,” she said, and silently slipped out of the room, leaving Katsuki alone with nothing but his soul-sucking paperwork and his thoughts.

* * *

The Prince was late to dinner, dressed in the same thing he had been wearing for breakfast. Some people changed into different getup, and those who didn’t were relieved that it wasn’t unbecoming not to change. Most of the Selected were a still confused on proper etiquette in the palace, but they were trying their best, with the limited help of their maids, which most readily accepted.

The Prince glanced at the Selected, and Eijiro’s eyes met his for a brief moment. Eijiro smiled shyly, and the Prince quickly turned his head away rather than returning the gesture. Izuku attempted conversation with the two sat beside of him, but grew uncomfortable with the predatory gaze the short, purple-haired boy beside him directed towards Izuku, so he instead turned to the brunette on his other side. She wasn’t all that conversational, but it was better than the other boy, who Izuku noticed made more than a few of the Selected uneasy.

Izuku talked to Komori amicably, stealing a glance at the Prince every now and then. The green-haired male noticed how much the Prince resembled his mother, and he thought back to his own mom back at home with Eri. He hoped they were doing alright. He had been lost in thought we felt a pair of eyes fixed on him. He looked towards the Prince eagerly, hoping he had caught his gaze, only to realize it was the Queen staring. She met his gaze for only a moment before breaking eye contact. Izuku wondered what that had been about. . .

Kyoka had never had food so good in her life. It took all of her willpower not to scarf down plate after plate of delicious food. And the courses just kept coming and coming and coming. She wondered if the food would ever stop, or would the meal just go on and on. Kyoka doubted it, and she was so full that she couldn’t bear to eat another bite, but at the same time the food was too good to waste. She looked across the table and noticed one tired looking boy with curly purple hair had barely touched his plate.

The girl beside of him nudged his shoulder, and said something to him, gesturing to his practically full plate of food. He just shook his head and pushed the plate away from himself, and she backed off after that. Kyoka wondered about his strange aversion to the palace food.

After the final course—dessert—the Selected, along with the Prince and Aizawa, went into a separate room directly connected with the Great Hall. There were several couches and comfy looking chairs strewn about the room, and it gave a cozy feeling. In one corner were two navy blue chairs turned facing towards one another, and the Prince immediately took one of the chairs, sinking down into the cushion as he sat.

“Tamaki Amajiki, please take a seat,” he called out gruffly, gesturing to the other chair. A shy boy with long black hair and elf-like ears sat down, peering timidly at the Prince. They talked for merely a minute, and although the conversation was a bit one-sided, Katsuki thought the boy to be charming, in an odd sort of way. 

Next, he spoke with Yuga Aoyama, who he learned was foreign almost immediately, judging by the blonde boy’s thick accent. Yuga was very sweet, and charming, and although he looked and acted very feminine, he was attractive by all means. Katsuki wasn’t entirely sure if he was his type, but it didn’t matter anyways. They’d all be going home soon anyways.

The next girl was Mina Ashido, the sexy pink-haired girl he’d noticed at breakfast. She was even more stunning up close, and she was as amazing as she was beautiful. Their conversation was short-lived, yet enjoyable, and Katsuki felt the strong urge to talk to her again. 

Tsuyu Asui had horrible posture, and was very blunt and forward, but Katsuki oddly admired her. She was clearly brave, and didn’t care for hiding things, often speaking her mind on a subject matter. Her words never seemed to have a hidden meaning, and he appreciated her openness.

The next boy was plain, and as he walked away, Katsuki immediately forgot his name. It wasn’t that he was rude, he was just boring, and their conversation was uneventful to say the least. He hadn’t noticed any admirable qualities about him, and Katsuki figured he would probably be one of the ones sent home.

Tooru Hagakure was so pale she was almost see through. She was gorgeous, with pale blue eyes and dirty blonde hair that fell in around her shoulders, but she desperately needed a tan. Despite her beauty, she was a little ditzy and annoying, and hadn’t done anything to really stand out to him in comparison to the others.

Pink dreadlocks, golden eyes, and a manic smile was what he was met with when Mei Hatsume walked over. Katsuki about after her everyday life, and quickly learned she was an inventor, which he thought was pretty interesting. He asked if he could see some of her inventions at a point, which seemed to delight the girl, and she readily agreed, smiling from ear to ear.

When Tenya Iida came over, he bowed stiffly to Katsuki and took a seat, maintaining perfect posture the entire conversation. He was clearly doing his best to be proper, but really Katsuki found how uptight he was somewhat annoying, although he wasn’t that awful to talk to. Depending on the rest of the candidates, there’s a chance Tenya might be sent home, but he wasn’t as bland as some were, and he did make an impression at the very least.

The purple haired girl who walked over next immediately made Katsuki feel at ease, and he wasn’t sure what it was about her that had that effect, but he definitely didn’t mind it. They talked about music mostly, having surprisingly similar tastes, and Kyoka shared the fact she can play most instruments, as well as sing, which Katsuki found interesting and impressive.

The Prince hated how invested he was becoming in this, but these people seemed just so intriguing, that he couldn’t help but want to get to know them. The blonde boy with the electric smile came over next, and Katsuki couldn’t help but think he was cute. The boy, Denki, was short and lean, an oddly attractive combination. Denki exuded confidence, and it was a nice change, because while he was confident he wasn’t cocky, and Katsuki appreciated it. Before walking away, Denki held out his hand for Katsuki to shake, which he hesitantly took. It was improper to address royalty in that manner, but he clearly held no malicious intent, so Katsuki humored him.

Itsuka Kendo was pretty, levelheaded, and fun to talk to. Katsuki knew from the moment she sat down, and they began talking, he held no romantic intentions towards her, but she seemed like such a great person that he didn’t have the heart to have her sent home this early on. He mentally added the orange-haired girl to the list of people he knew for certain would stay.

No surprise when eyelashes—or Bibimi he supposed he should call her—happened to mention her modeling career. Katsuki couldn’t deny the fact that she’s gorgeous, but how much of it was natural, and how much was a façade? She seemed nice, and Katsuki figured it was rude to judge her entirely on looks alone, so he figured he’d let her stay, so he could get to know her better.

Red hair, red eyes, and a maroon vest. This boy clearly had to have known his favorite color was red, or why else would he have so much of it on him? But when Katsuki questioned him on the matter, he said he had dyed his hair a year or more before coming to the palace, and that his maids had chosen the vest without considering his input. Katsuki swallowed, fighting off a blush. He knew it was silly, because he was _Katsuki Bakugou_ , he didn’t have silly crushes. But Eijiro Kirishima was hot as hell, and only a blind man couldn’t see that. Katsuki mentally noted that the redhead would definitely be staying, as he was kind as he was endearing. 

After Eijiro, most people appeared almost bland in comparison, his mind still stuck on those crimson eyes, only a mere shade lighter than his own. Koji Koda was quiet, too quiet, and Katsuki already decided he would be leaving that night. Komori Kinoko seemed sweet, but she was kind of bland, and would be joining Koda in his dismissal from the palace.

Katsuki broke out of his reverie by the sight of a shock of green hair and emerald colored eyes. The boy looked soft, but tough at the same time, and Katsuki honestly wasn’t sure how to feel. Katsuki felt a wave of familiarity wash over him when the boy introduced himself as Izuku Midoriya, but he still couldn’t place where he had heard the name before. Their conversation was pleasant, and Katsuki learned that Izuku was into fighting, and had been considering applying to become a palace guard before hearing of the Selection.

Minoru Mineta was no taller than four feet, and had curly purple hair that rolled into ball-like shapes on his head. His eyes roamed freely over Katsuki’s body in a degrading manner, and the Prince grew even more upset when the man had the audacity to _lick his lips_. Katsuki dismissed him on the spot, demanding he leave the palace that instant.

There was that manic grin again, although on a much smaller scale this time. Pale blonde hair, styled neatly and calm gray eyes that held a flicker of an emotion that Katsuki couldn’t quite place. His conversation with Neito was mainly centered on politics, which Neito assumed might impress the Prince. Katsuki quickly grew bored of the topic, but decided to entertain the blonde man anyways.

Nejire was sweet, and very pretty, Katsuki noted. She was actually a couple years older than him, although she definitely didn’t look it. They chatted for only a minute, and while the conversation was nice it wasn’t anything special. Katsuki silently wondered how many more people he would have to talk to.

Mashirao was rather plain, but Katsuki thought it was nice that he knew so many different fighting styles. Rikido Sato was positively huge, even slightly intimidating. He was apparently a chef, and not all that great of a conversationalist, so Katsuki made a mental note that Rikido would be one of the ten leaving that day. 

The first thing Katsuki noticed about Hanta Sero was his addictive smile. It was so warm and welcoming that Katsuki felt the corners of his lips twitching upwards at the sight. The man’s smile was positively infectious, although Katsuki couldn’t necessarily say he was upset over the matter.

Yo Shindo, the typical fuckboy. He fit the stereotype perfectly. Katsuki felt a little guilty for judging him so quickly, but he knew right away that Shindo was not the one he wanted, and decidedly ended their talk a little early, which the other boy seemed oblivious to.

Katsuki recalled the name Hitoshi Shinso from when he had been drawing the names of the Selected. And there was a perfectly good reason for it. The man was an Eight. He didn’t see of any other candidate that was an Eight, and Katsuki was expecting to be greeted with a thief or thug of some sort. Hitoshi wasn’t entirely what he was expecting, with eye bags such a deep shade of purple it looked like he had two black eyes, standing out even more against his unnaturally pale skin. Despite his tired and rugged appearance, he wore a confident smirk, and Katsuki enjoyed talking to the mysterious man, and liked how at ease Hitoshi had seemed.

Ibara Shiozaki was calm, formal, and polite. There was one moment during the discussion when she had gotten lost in the subject, and got this far away, dreamy look in her eyes. After realizing, she went back to her stony demeanor. Katsuki felt as if her heart wasn’t truly in the conversation, and had much preferred it when she was talking about a subject she was passionate about.

He was next met with a tall, muscular man with biceps the width of his skull. His name was Mezo Shoji, and despite his impressive appearance, he wasn’t much of a talker, and Katsuki struggled to keep the conversation going for even sixty seconds. 

Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu, easily the funniest name Katsuki’s ever heard, and it was a struggle not to start laughing then and there. Despite his hilarious name, the man was very similar to Eijiro in a way, and Katsuki found himself comparing the two. He wished he hadn’t, because although they acted practically the same, Katsuki couldn’t help but note that Eijiro was ten times better looking, and thoughts of the redhead soon clouded his mind, and he angrily tried to dispel the thoughts.

Shoto Todoroki was overall the most attractive person in the room, but he was quiet and reserved. The conversation between the two was lacking, and Katsuki chalked it up to the handsome boy being shy, but that didn’t quite seem right. The heterochromatic boy puzzled him, and he vowed to dig a little deeper, meaning that Shoto would remain another day in the Selection.

The next man had messy dark hair and such sharp features that he almost appeared birdlike. He was edgy, and purposefully mysterious, and Katsuki felt himself being drawn to the shorter boy. Something about him seemed enticing, and despite their conversation being pretty one-sided and boring, and the man not being all that attractive, Katsuki decided he wanted Fumikage Tokoyami to stay.

Mirio Toogata wore a huge grin as he walked over, and his bright demeanor threatened to bring a smile to Katsuki’s stony face. The man was trying his damn hardest to get the Prince to laugh, and Katsuki could tell, but he didn’t crack, although the blonde boy did manage to get the hint of a smirk, which had him laughing and cheering good naturedly. His presence was a delight, and it made Katsuki feel at ease, but could he really see himself actually being with that man? Not entirely, but he wasn’t opposed to looking into it.

Blonde hair and green eyes somehow even bigger than Izuku’s. Pony Tsunatori was an absolute sweetheart, but she easily got distracted or confused, and continuously grew sidetracked during their conversation, which annoyed him to no end. He tried to be patient, but he couldn’t help but be kind of glad when their time was up.

Ochaco Uraraka was shaking in her figurative boots as she walked towards the Prince, and he immediately assured her there was nothing to be nervous about. She made her attempts at a smile, although it came off shaky, but Katsuki gave the girl an A for effort. She was very pretty, and the more they talked, the more at ease she became. When their time was up, he was almost a little sad to see her go, though he masked the feeling.

He shouldn’t be wanting to talk to these people. He was going to break all of their hearts anyways, and then they’d hate him. They all would. Camie Utsushimi was honestly so much fun to talk to, that Katsuki originally ignored Aizawa when he said for the next person to come over. She was the first one to crack the Prince’s façade, the first one to get a real smile out of him. But most importantly, she was by far the first to earn a chuckle. Some competitors glared daggers at the ditzy blonde as she sat down, and Katsuki sighed, knowing there was no point. He could never see himself being with Camie, but he sure as hell loved her company and could see him and her becoming pretty good friends along the line.

Katsuki had originally assumed Shoto to be the most attractive here, but somehow he had missed Momo Yaoyorozu, who certainly gave the dual haired boy a run for his money. It was hard not to notice her bust, especially when it seemed her maids had chosen a dress that accentuated this very feature. She seemed slightly embarrassed and uncomfortable in the revealing dress, attempting to use her arms to cover or hide her chest. Along with being beautiful, she was incredibly intelligent and sweet, along with funny and charismatic. In simple words, she would make the perfect Queen. But would she make the perfect bride?

Inasa Yoarashi was interesting, to say the least. He had a funny and energetic way of speaking, that Katsuki found a bit obnoxious but he honestly didn’t mind all that much. He was eager for certain, and he seemed genuinely interested in the Prince, which he appreciated as that had been one of his greatest fears.

After talking to Inasa for a little over a minute, the Prince stood, and all talking ceased as the Selected all focused their attention upon him. 

“If I say your name,” the Prince spoke loud and clear, looking at a spot on the wall so as not to have to bear looking at any of the men and women he was about to send home. “You are hereby dismissed from the palace. Thank you for your time and your efforts.

“Komori Kinoko. Shindo Yo. Hagakure Tooru. Awase Yosetsu. Koda Koji. Sato Rikido. Shoji Mezo. Ojiro Mashirao. Tsunatori Pony.” He listened with bated breath as the nine men and women left the room. Before he was tempted to look and see everyone else’s reactions, he spun on his heel, and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we've had the first ten of the Selected eliminated, so here's a list of the remaining 25 as well as their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Kendo Itsuka – Seven  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Asui Tsuyu – Four  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four  
> Aoyama Yuga – Five  
> Hatsume Mei – Three  
> Kenranzaki Bibimi – Two
> 
> Next chapter will be the first date so please- if you have any requests for who you want it to be, leave a comment!
> 
> I'll get working on the next chapter whenever I have the time. I know I said I have basically no school, but things with online learning are basically changing by the hour so the amount of work has increased by a considerable amount, giving me slightly less time to write, but I'm working on the story whenever I have a chance.
> 
> I hope the chapter was good, and thank you to anyone who's taking the time to read my fic, because I really appreciate it!


	4. The First Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> o o f another short chapter smh
> 
> B u t it IS the first date sooo I think you all can handle the shorter chapter this time around.
> 
> Enjoy!

Katsuki hid in his room for the rest of the night, pondering on whether or not he had made the right decision in sending those 10 men and women home. There were some, such as Mineta, where he was absolutely sure he couldn’t have made a better choice, but there were others, like Shindo, where he felt that maybe he hadn’t given them enough of a chance. In the end, what’s done is done, and he can’t take back any of the actions he’d already made. 

  
The next step was, naturally, deciding who would be getting the first date. Or the first three, as he had decided to announce them all at once and spread the times of the dates over the next couple days. He pondered on who he wanted to invite on the first date, and thoughts of red hair and exceptionally sharp teeth flashed in his mind.

  
Akira walked in at that precise moment, luckily breaking Katsuki away from his thoughts before he could become too flustered, but the girl seemed to notice his unusual state anyways. “Katsuki, are you blushing?” She said incredulously, a teasing smile playing on her lips. The words only made Katsuki’s face heat up more, and he groaned as Akira laughed at her friend’s embarrassment. “Who’s the lucky one, then?”

  
Katsuki sighed and pulled out a folder, which included the name’s, castes, and pictures of all the Selected. He flipped through the pages until he found the name he was looking for, pressing a finger harshly below a picture of the man’s smiling face, showing Akira. “This is the man I want to have join me on the first one-on-one date.”

  
  
* * *

  
  
Usually, there was a separate room where only men or women could enter, for the Selected to lounge in. Due to the unusual circumstances, they had to combine the two, and only the Selected, as well as a select few others, could enter. Aizawa, as the overseer of the Selection, was permitted to enter the Parlor whenever he saw fit.

  
Akira, the Prince’s personal maid and best friend for near 10 years now, paid him a little visit, a small slip of paper in hand. The paper contained three names, and she made note to tell him that these were the names of the Selected who had the honor of joining the Prince on his first three one-on-one dates, in respective order from top to bottom.

  
After the cheerful girl left, presumably to go back to the Prince’s room, Aizawa casually entered the Selected’s Parlor, as he’d taken to calling it, the paper in hand. All eyes turned to him in an instant, and talking ceased. He carefully cleared his throat. “The Prince has decided who his first three dates will be with. Here are the names, in order.”

  
Mirio knew that his first interactions with the Prince had gone exceptionally well—in fact, he was one of only two Selected who managed to see an expression from the Prince other than feigned indifference, the only other being Camie. But despite that, he still couldn’t fathom the idea that the Prince had chosen _him_ for the very first one-on-one date.

  
 _It’d be even better if the date was with_ him. . .

  
The blonde forced the traitorous thought from his mind, his steps faltering for only a moment in the unusually quiet hallway before he picked up his pace once again with a new fervor. He shouldn’t have been all that surprised to learn the palace had its very own movie theater, the place was massive after all.

  
Mirio loved all sorts of movies, from light-hearted comedies to the goriest of horrors. He was naturally optimistic and saw only the best parts of each movie, no matter how cheesy or graphic. That didn’t mean he didn’t have favorites, and he had to admit that he was a sucker for rom-coms—the cheesier, the better.

  
He figured the Prince probably wasn’t all that into that sort of thing, and if he was given a choice for the genre of the movie, he’d just go for a simple comedy. His goal from the start had been to get the Prince to laugh, and he was somewhat satisfied by the signs of a smile he had received, but he still wanted to see what it was like when His Highness _really_ let loose. It would be an interesting sight, to say the least.

  
As expected, the Prince gave him his choice on the genre of the movie they would be enjoying that evening. “A lighthearted comedy will do.” Mirio suggested with an easy smile, and the Prince huffed, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

  
“I know what you’re playing at, Toogata, and it won’t work.” He said, sitting down comfortably in the second row of empty seats. Mirio gingerly took a seat beside the other blonde, chuckling lowly at how quickly the Prince had managed to see right through him.

  
“What ever could you mean?” He teased, and he noticed the Prince fight off yet another smirk. “Also, call me Mirio, Your Highness. Going by ‘Toogata’ feels almost a little too formal, dontcha think?”

  
“Well alright then, as long as you call me Prince Bakugou and not _Your Highness_. I’m certainly not being addressed in that manner by my possible future groom.” Mirio honestly should have been elated as those words, that he really did stand a chance. But when he thought of his own wedding, images of dark hair and even darker eyes flooded his mind, and he ruefully attempted to push the thoughts from his mind.

  
How was he meant to compete for the Prince when he was still in love with another?

* * *

  
The movie was outrageously funny, and Mirio laughed his ass off the entirety of it. The Prince didn’t find it nearly amusing, but he found Mirio’s reactions to be equally entertaining. After the movie, they went to get ice cream, a delicacy Mirio knew not many of the Selected had the pleasure of eating before. As a Three, Mirio had tried the delicious substance on multiple occasions, and although he had never mentioned being fond of the treat to the Prince, the aggressive blonde made a good choice in bringing them here.

  
“I’m not all that fond of sweets,” the Prince admitted. “But I was kind of hoping you might be. Ice cream is one of the few I tolerate, although I much prefer spicy foods.”

  
Mirio chuckled, picking a bowl up delicately and scooping out birthday cake flavored ice cream, sprinkling as many delicious-looking condiments on as he could find. “I’m quite the opposite, if I’m being honest. Spicy food has never sat well with my stomach.” The blonde grabbed a spoon and took a careful bite of his ice cream, trying not to get any on his face.

  
If the Prince’s snort was anything to go by, he had failed. “Similar to my father then. He’s never had a taste for anything spicy, unlike me and the old hag.” Mirio choked back a laugh at the nickname the Prince had given to his mother. “What?”

  
“Did you just call the _Queen_ an _old hag_?” Mirio’s laughter was infectious, and the Prince found himself smiling despite how hard he tried to contain it. “I’m sorry I just—” Mirio wiped away a few stray tears. “I never imagined anyways having the balls to address her in such a fashion.”  
  


The conversation flowed wonderfully from there, and Katsuki found himself really enjoying his time with the upbeat blonde he had chosen for his date. At first glance, Mirio came off as big, muscular, and slightly intimidating. But up close, you could easily make out the little crinkles around his eyes from how often he smiled, or how his baby blue eyes held nothing but warmth. He wasn’t exactly what Katsuki had been expecting, but he wasn’t disappointed in the least.

  
But as he stared into blue eyes, he imagined red; and as he admired smooth, golden-blonde locks, he instead saw spiked up crimson. Why couldn’t he get this man out of his head?

  
What was it about Eijiro Kirishima that he found so damn attractive?

* * *

Mirio couldn’t contain his excitement as he went to lounge in the Selected’s parlor after his date with the Prince. It had gone even better than expected, and he was absolutely giddy as he entered the parlor, a faraway look in his eyes.

  
But it seems not everyone feels the same.

  
As soon as the doors shut behind him he was bombarded with question after question. “How did it go?” “What did you guys do?” “Did he seem really interested in you?” “Did you kiss?”

  
Mirio snorted at the last question. “Heavens no! It was only one date, the Prince isn’t that much of a sleaze that he’d kiss anyone this early on!” He defended, and a few of the Selected chuckled.

  
“But for real,” A feminine voice spoke up, and he turned to a girl with golden eyes and bubblegum colored hair. “What did you guys do on the date?”

  
Mirio shrugged, plopping down on one of the many couches scattered about the room. To his surprise, and pleasure, Tamaki took a seat beside of him, and he smiled at the shy boy. “We watched a movie, then had ice cream. Pretty basic stuff, but it was fun all the same.” He described, many people listening intently.

  
“And?” Another blonde boy questioned, although he had a black streak in his hair that resembled lightning. “What was the Prince like? Is he as much of an asshole as they say?”

  
Mirio laughed out loud at this, and shared a grin with the fellow blonde, who he vaguely remembered to be named Kaminari. “He’s really guarded, but far from an asshole, I’d say.” He explained wistfully, smiling at the remnants of their date. “He’s not all that talkative, but he can be if you know the right things to say.”

  
Many people nodded, murmuring sounds of recognition. “Sounds like a tough date to follow up.” Another voice spoke, and Mirio merely shrugged as way of response. “Well, I’m not very confident I can, but I’ll certainly try!” The man smiled, his enthusiasm evident in his tone and expression. Based on the guy’s overall persona, he had no doubt that he certainly would show Mirio up in every aspect, and the blonde was confused upon realizing he was perfectly fine with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I tried to make it s u s p e n s e f u l, not sure how good of a job I did though.
> 
> Next chapter is, naturally, the SECOND date, and since I've already planned out who I want to go on the next two dates, hopefully the updates will come out a little bit faster this time around.
> 
> No one was eliminated, phew, so here are our 25 remaining of the Selected:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Kendo Itsuka – Seven  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Asui Tsuyu – Four  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four  
> Aoyama Yuga – Five  
> Hatsume Mei – Three  
> Kenranzaki Bibimi – Two
> 
> I'm gonna go ahead and ask for suggestions for the fourth date early, so if you have any requests for someone you want Katsuki to go on a one-on-one date with, leave a comment! 
> 
> Hopefully I can get the next update out soon, and cya 'til then! Hope you enjoyed my shitty writing!


	5. A Ride to Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, an update! I got r e a l l y into this one fic, so I've been a little sidetracked. But I promise, I haven't abandoned this story!
> 
> Thankfully, this chapter is almost twice the length of the other, so no more short chapters :D
> 
> Enjoy! ^^

Eijiro was embarrassed to admit that he had never before been on a date. He personally didn’t find himself that attractive, and apparently others held the same sentiment. Except the Prince.

  
The redhead honestly wasn’t sure what he could have done to stand out enough to receive the second date with His Highness, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. When the pair first spoke, it went well, although the Prince had seemed slightly distracted, causing Eijiro to believe the blonde found him boring. So why was he being picked for one of the first dates with him?

  
Unlike Mirio, Eijiro was not aware of what he and the Prince would be doing during their time together. The most he had been told was to dress comfortably. Even that was surprisingly hard to do, as his new wardrobe consists entirely of stuffy suits, but he found something that he thought might be suitable.

  
He supposed it was a bit shocking to be led toward the stables, where Katsuki was waiting besides two horses who were already saddled up and prepared for the blonde and himself. Eijiro hadn’t taken Katsuki to be an animal person, so it was a bit of a surprise that they were going horseback riding. But, those feelings were practically drowned out by the palpable giddiness Eijiro felt, because he absolutely was an animal person.

  
Katsuki smirked at the sight of the other man’s expression. “Seems I chose well.” He said, and Eijiro enthusiastically shook his head in agreement.

  
“You chose wonderfully.” He added, sending Katsuki a hundred-watt smile that he absolutely did _not_ swoon at the sight of. “I love animals! Although, I must admit I’ve never been horseback riding before.”

  
Katsuki hummed in acknowledgement, silently offering to help Eijiro mount his horse. Eijiro’s smile impossibly widened, and he took Katsuki’s offered hand, mounting his horse, although he somehow managed to mount himself in the opposite direction, facing towards the horse’s rear. Katsuki snorted at the sight, and Eijiro flushed in embarrassment.

  
“Sir Kirishima,” the redhead wrinkled his nose in distaste at the title. “I’m not sure if you’ve realized, but you’re supposed to be facing the other direction when mounting your horse.” Katsuki teased, Eijiro’s face turning the same shade of his hair.

  
“Yes, I realize that now.” He said hotly, turning around on the horse to face the front and simultaneously hide his face from Katsuki. He loosely gripped the reins as he waited for Katsuki to mount his horse, which he did with practiced ease. “Well, Your Highness, I’m embarrassed to admit I don’t actually know how to ride.”

  
The flush in Eijiro’s cheeks had begun spreading, tinting his ears an adorable shade of red. “We’ll be going slowly, as there’s no need to rush. Don’t focus too much on the reins, those are primarily just for show. It’s easier to guide the horse with the usage of your knees.”

  
He demonstrated this, applying a gentle pressure onto the horse’s sides with his knees, hardly moving the reins at all. The horse began moving at a soft trot, and Eijiro attempted to copy the gesture. Surprisingly, the horse obeyed easily, and Eijiro felt a small feeling of pride well up in his chest. “See? It’s easy. Just copy my movements, and follow me.” Katsuki instructed, and Eijiro nodded his head in affirmative.

  
“Do you go riding often?” Eijiro questioned, as Katsuki seemed to have experience at this.

  
The blonde nodded. “Not as much now that I’m older, but when I was a kid I used to come riding almost every day.” He explained, and Eijiro hummed in response. “I suppose if I want to go riding now, I’ll have to bring one of the damn Selected along with me.”

  
“Well,” Eijiro began, and Katsuki glanced briefly at him before focusing again on their surroundings. “You don’t _have_ to. You deserve alone time just as much as anyone else.”

  
Katsuki felt the corners of his lips curve up into a smile, despite how much he willed them not to. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I can assure you that not everyone sees it that way.” Katsuki explained, and he could practically _feel_ the redhead frowning beside of him. “One day, I’m going to be King, and the role comes with a lot of responsibility. With that in mind, I really don’t have the luxury of getting _alone time_ anymore. These dates are the closest I’m going to get to relaxation in a while.”

  
Eijiro’s frown deepened, his eyebrows furrowing together in a way that showed he was upset. The man stayed silent for a couple minutes, unsure of how exactly to respond to Katsuki’s confession.

  
“Why me?”

  
His voice was so quiet, that Katsuki almost thought he’d imagined the question. “What do you mean?” Katsuki said, attempting to hide his surprise at the sudden change in topic.

  
“I mean, why did you choose me? For this date.” The redhead was somehow blushing _again_ , but Katsuki didn’t mind. In fact, he found the sight to be pretty cute.

  
The blonde was silent at first, unsure of what to say. He knew the answer; knew that his undeniable attraction to the redheaded man played a major part in his choosing him. But this was _Katsuki,_ and he’d rather die than admit he found Eijiro to be _hot._ But then what could he say? He’d be lying if he said that he hadn’t chosen Eijiro solely based on his looks, but he’d also be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy Eijiro’s company.

  
“I suppose,” he began, still not sure of where to start. “There were many factors that led me to choosing you.” He took a deep breath, and continued, “I originally planned to take _you_ on the first date, not Mirio. I enjoyed our first interactions, but I won’t lie to you. I find you very attractive, and that’s why I invited you out with me this evening.”

  
Katsuki was slightly worried that this would make him sound shallow, and that Eijiro would no longer like him because of it. He risked a glance at the redhead, and he really shouldn’t have been surprised to see Eijiro gaping at him, a blush adorning his handsome features. “Y-you find _me_ attractive?” He sputtered, shock evident in his tone.

  
Katsuki smirked, willing away the blush that was rising on his cheeks. “You sound surprised. Has no one ever made advances on you in the past?” He questioned. Surely someone as kind-hearted and good-looking as Eijiro had caught the eye of many men and women alike in the past, but to Katsuki’s surprise, the redhead shook his head.

  
“This is actually my first time being on a date. And I have to say, I’m glad that it’s with you.” Eijiro said, an easy smile forming on his lips. Katsuki let out a quiet ‘tch’, but when Eijiro glanced at him, he noticed that there was a noticeable pink tint to his cheeks.

  
“We’re here, dumbass,” Katsuki declared, and Eijiro furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

  
“And where is ‘here’, exactly?” He questioned, making the blonde roll his eyes.

  
“Just follow me.” He ordered, and took off at a brisk pace, making the redhead chuckle as he jogged after him to catch up.

  
Katsuki led Eijiro up a steep hill, although the redhead seemed to have no qualms about making the trek, which Katsuki internally smirked at. At the top, cliché as it was, there was a red and white checkered picnic blanket and a basket sat on top, stuffed to the brim with food. Eijiro’s face lit up at the sight, and Katsuki memorized the sight, not wanting to forget the look on the redhead’s face.

  
“Aww, this is so cute!” Eijiro cooed, running the last bit up the hill to take an ungraceful seat on the blanket, waiting for Katsuki to sit down before babbling excitedly about how amazing this was. To top it all off, the redhead looked on the verge of tears at the sight of the delicious food that had been waiting inside the picnic basket, and Katsuki chuckled lightly at Eijiro’s excitement. The redhead sent him a strange look at the sound, his smile brighter than the sun itself. “You have a cute laugh.”

  
Katsuki flushed the color of Eijiro’s hair, and let out a noise of protest, which the redhead simply laughed at. The blonde jokingly hit Eijiro on the shoulder, huffing in mock offense. “Nothing about me is _cute._ ” He protested, and the redhead chuckled, shaking his head.

“Well, I beg to differ.” He teased, which absolutely did not make Katsuki blush harder. It was just _hot outside_ , okay? “Are you, Prince Katsuki Bakugou, _blushing_?”

  
Katsuki swatted at the redhead’s arm in annoyance. “Shut-up, I’m not!” He argued, and the redhead shook his head in disagreement. “God, you’re as bad as Akira.” He muttered, fighting a smile.

  
It was clear by Eijiro’s expression that the statement confused him. “Akira?”

  
Katsuki hummed dismissively. “She’s my personal maid, and my closest friend.” He admitted, and Eijiro nodded in understanding. The blonde furrowed his eyebrows as a thought suddenly occurred to him. “You’re probably missing your closest friend back home, huh?”

  
Eijiro shrugged, a sad smile forming on his lips. “I didn’t have all that many friends back home. I’m too shy.” He admitted, chuckling and awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. “Although, Mina and I come from the same village. We weren’t really friends though, just acquaintances.”

  
“Well, what about family? Have any siblings back home?” He questioned. Surely there was _someone_ he was missing right now, during his stay here.

“Well actually, I’m an only child. I lived alone with my mother, before coming here.” He explained, and one detail seemed to stand out to Katsuki.

  
“What happened to your father?”

  
“He. . .” Eijiro seemed to hesitate, and Katsuki realized it might be hard for the man to talk about.

  
“You don’t have to tell me, y’know. Only when you’re ready.”

  
Eijiro smiled, but Katsuki could see the pain in his eyes. “He passed away a few years ago from disease. If we were a higher caste, rather than Sevens. . . we probably would have been able to afford treatment, but at the time, we couldn’t.”

  
Katsuki had only seen the expression once, but he already knew he hated seeing Eijiro with that look on his face. The blonde had never been good at comforting people, but he felt like Eijiro deserved for him to try. Katsuki placed his hand gently on top of the others, rubbing circles into the back of his rough hand. They didn’t speak, but instead sat in a comfortable silence.

  
They stayed like that for a while, both too afraid of breaking the companionable silence that hung in the air. Katsuki sighed as he finally spoke, the first one to do so in over half an hour. “It’s getting dark,” he admitted ruefully, wishing to stay here and spend more time by the redhead’s side, but knowing his mother would be furious if he did not return home soon.

  
Eijiro nodded in understanding, flashing Katsuki a small smile before beginning the trek back down the hill towards where their horses were standing in wait. “You think you can mount the horse the right way this time?” Katsuki teased playfully, and Eijiro chuckled lightly.

  
“Oh please, I meant to do that.” The redhead joked, earning another small snicker out of the blonde. “This is the third time I’ve made you laugh tonight. Who are you and what have you done with the Prince?”

  
Katsuki scowled, although he wasn’t genuinely upset. “I can laugh if I fucking want to, Shitty Hair.” The nickname just slipped out, a bad habit of his that he’d struggled to shake off. The redhead laughed, taking the teasing insult in stride, not really seeming to mind.

  
Their ride back to the castle was seemingly as pleasant as their first ride out. They parted for the night on good terms, and Eijiro was pleased with how well it had gone. Although the Prince could be a bit abrasive at times, he wasn’t nearly as mean as some rumors made him out to be, and Eijiro found himself seriously enjoying the blonde’s company, and even craving more.

  
He was completely smitten, wasn’t he?

* * *

Eijiro honestly wasn’t surprised by being ambushed the minute he entered the Selected’s parlor; 24 aggressive men and women hounding him with questions. Most he just shrugged off, as there were far too many people to understand any one of them clearly. He smiled sheepishly and sat down on the sofa in a futile attempt to avoid the crowd.

  
“Guys, guys, give the dude a break!” Someone shouted, and he smiled as he was met with plain brown eyes and a large, albeit crooked, grin. The raven-haired man stretched his hand out towards Eijiro, taking a seat easily beside the redhead. “The name’s Hanta Sero, nice to meetcha.”

  
Eijiro took the proffered hand easily, giving it a firm shake. “I’m Eijiro Kirishima. Thanks for the help by the way.” He smiled, gesturing around the slowly dissipating crowd of candidates.

  
Hanta waved it away with a flick of his wrist, his comforting smile easily reaching his eyes. “Ah, it’s no problem dude. We may be competition, but it’s no fun if you don’t have any friends. So how ‘bout it?”

  
“For sure. It’s nice for us not to have to be at each other’s throats all the time. Although, I gotta admit the competition looks pretty scary.” Eijiro said, doing a quick scan of the room while mindlessly chatting with Hanta.

  
The brunette hummed his agreement, silently glancing at the other Selected. “Says the one who’s already been on a date with the Prince.” He teased, and Eijiro chuckled. “I’ll admit I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little jealous. But you seem cool, so it’s all chill. I’ll get my chance at some point.”

  
Eijiro smiled brightly at the statement, glad the other man wasn’t jealous or upset at his current lack of attention from the Prince. Before the redhead could reply, he felt rather than saw the couch dip beside him, a new voice entering their conversation. “But still dude, what was your date like?”

  
The blonde man now seated on Eijiro’s left was as thin as Hanta, but an obvious few inches shorter. His eyes and hair were the color of gold, and Eijiro noticed a black strip of hair intermingling with the blonde, vaguely forming the shape of a lightning bolt. “Our date was great!” Eijiro admitted enthusiastically, the remnants of the night he and the blonde shared coming back to him as he spoke. “We went horseback riding and then had a picnic. He’s kind of hard to get to open up to you, but once he does he’s fantastic company. Not to mention, he’s fucking _hot_.”

“Amen,” both men chorused, and the sound of their laughter drew the attention of a fourth member to join their conversation.

  
“Sounds like you three are enjoying yourselves. Mind if I join in?” Mina seemed perfectly at ease, despite the fact that she was surrounded by people who were mostly strangers. Even if she and Eijiro had lived in the same village, the redhead doubted he knew her.

  
Despite that fact, he smiled brightly at the pink-haired girl. “Sure thing Mina.” He offered, and the girl returned his smile easily. Eijiro thought he saw a hint of recognition flicker in her eyes, but he passed the notion off easily.

  
The blonde man spoke up, and Eijiro realized he still hadn’t learned his name. “We were just talking about how attractive the Prince is.” He said, smirking slightly, and Mina giggled her agreement, pretending to swoon dramatically.

  
“You’re definitely not wrong there, blondie.” Mina agreed wholeheartedly, smiling warmly. She jokingly punched Eijiro on the arm. “God, Kiri, you’re so lucky! You’ve already been on a date with the Prince!”

  
The redhead quirked a brow at the nickname, but didn’t comment. “Well, can’t argue with you there. But I don’t want it to seem like I’m bragging or anything.” He flushed slightly, hoping the others wouldn’t say anything as he nervously scratched at the back of his neck.

  
“It’s the Prince’s preference, so we don’t hold it against ya, dude.” Hanta offered, his smile infectious as it spread to the others sitting around him.

  
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Denki piped up. “What’re you guys’ castes? I was originally a Four, although I guess we’re all technically Threes now, huh?”

  
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. I was a Four too.” Hanta said, looking to the other two sitting there for their answer.

  
Eijiro blushed, willing Mina to speak up. Being a former Seven isn’t something he’s sure he’s ready to admit to. What if they didn’t want to be around him anymore because of the fact? “I was a Five, a dancer actually. I love it and it pays the bills, win-win right?” She said jokingly, a smile masking the breath she was clearly holding. The other two didn’t seem to mind her low caste, and Eijiro noticed her exhale quietly. “Y’know Kiri, you don’t have to say if you’re not comfortable with it.”

  
He smiled at the pink-haired girl, but decided that if they judged him based on his caste, they really weren’t people he should be spending time with anyways. “Well, I was actually a Seven. . .” He trailed off, looking away from the two boys for fear of rejection.

  
Denki frowned slightly. “Damn, dude that must have been tough. Sevens don’t get paid shit, and they honestly work so hard. But it’s no wonder you’re ripped!” He said, smirking as the redhead’s face heated up at the comment.

  
The group got along pretty well, and ended up talking until late into the night, when they were eventually kicked out of the parlor by Aizawa and told to get some rest. Hanta and Denki took off in similar directions, their rooms seemingly close to each other’s. Eijiro had to part ways with the other three, making his way to his new, too big room.

  
That night a girl lied in bed, wondering how her own date with the Prince would go.

* * *

Katsuki entered his bedroom quietly, praying to any God who would listen that Akira wasn’t there. His prayers were blatantly ignored.

  
“Heya Katsuki!” She greeted, her chipper self as usual. Katsuki groaned and steeled himself for the interrogation that was guaranteed to ensue. “How’d the date go?”

  
“I’m going to sleep.”  
The blonde made a move to begin undressing himself, but Akira sucked her teeth and grabbed his wrists to keep him from moving, leaning too far into his personal space than he was honestly comfortable with. But then again, this was Akira after all. “No, no, no. Not until I get some details. Why’d you choose the redhead anyways?” She questioned innocently.

  
“He’s decent looking, I guess.” Eijiro was far from _decent looking_ , but Katsuki would rather get caught dead than admit that fact.

  
“Yeah, right.” She said sarcastically. “He’s pretty cute y’know. Did you have fun with him?”

  
Katsuki shrugged in lieu of an answer, and Akira sighed loudly. “Yeah, I had a good fucking time. Happy?” He snapped, and Akira’s face broke out into a shit eating grin.

  
“I’m glad you had a good date, ‘Suki. I really hope you manage to find someone for you out of the 25 you have left.” She said sympathetically, disappearing into the bathroom to begin drawing him a bath.

  
He sighs, sitting gingerly on the edge of his bed. “I doubt it.”

  
Katsuki heard her sigh emanate from the next room over. “At least give them a shot.” She reasoned, and once again he shrugged. “Good night, Katsuki. I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”

  
The blonde didn’t register that she had left until he heard the soft click of the door being shut, and he was left alone with the enormous weight of his thoughts, the only distraction being the soft sounds of running water coming from the bathroom. What if he did decide to take the Selection seriously?

  
How would he ever be able to choose?  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo there's the second date! Sorry if I write Bakugou a little ooc, he's pretty much my polar opposite so its a struggle writing his character.
> 
> I'm going to try to post along a regular schedule, so I'll try and get the next chapter out by this upcoming Friday!
> 
> Here's the list of the Selected and their caste, as promised:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Kendo Itsuka – Seven  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Asui Tsuyu – Four  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four  
> Aoyama Yuga – Five  
> Hatsume Mei – Three  
> Kenranzaki Bibimi – Two
> 
> So the next chapter is the third date, but if you have any requests for who I write the fourth date to be with, leave a comment on who your preference is! ^w^


	6. Paint Me Up; In The Colors of Your Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, surprise, I'm on time! Finally, the third date is here.
> 
> The person I chose for this date was purely my own decision, just because I love the character. The next date will be with someone who was suggested in the comments, so look forwards to that ^^
> 
> I hope you enjoy the chapter <3

The Selected unintentionally began separating themselves into small groups as they lounged in their parlor. They all knew that today was going to be the Prince’s third private date, and the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a butter knife.

  
“You nervous, Mina?”

  
Denki leaned back casually on the sofa, seemingly unaware of how tense everyone around him was. “Hell yeah I’m nervous. But kinda excited too.” She smiled wistfully. “I wonder what we’re going to do.”

  
“Yours is a surprise too?” Eijiro questioned. Mirio’s date plans had been common knowledge to the blonde boy, whereas Eijiro’s had been a complete mystery up until the date had actually started.

  
The pink-haired girl nodded sagely. “Yup. I haven’t been told jack shit about what we’re gonna do, and I’m honestly not sure if I should try dressing up real nice or going in something simple. I might as well just go in what I’m wearing right now.” She gestured down to the casual day dress she was wearing, which the others had to admit she still looked amazing in.

  
“Well, you’ll look great either way. Just wear whatever feels right, I’m sure the Prince just wants for you to be comfortable and act like yourself.” Hanta offered, and Mina nodded at him, smiling.

  
“I’m still nervous though. Y’know?” She questioned, and Eijiro bashfully nodded his head in agreement.

  
Denki sighed, leaning his head back. “I wish I understood.” He said, and Hanta hummed his agreement. “Alas, I’ve yet to catch the Prince’s eye just yet.” He joked, and Mina giggled.

  
“Don’t you worry, Denks, you’re plenty cute. I’m just, y’know, cuter.” The girl teased, and the blonde scoffed in mock offense.

  
“Mina Ashido,” a stoic voice cut through the distinct chatter filling the room. “It’s time.”

  
“Wait—what?” She squealed, standing up and brushing imaginary dirt off of her day dress. “ _Now_?”

  
“Yes, now. And hurry, he hates when people are late.” Aizawa chastised.

  
Mina waved a quick good-bye to Hanta, Denki, and Eijiro before scuttling out of the room at a brisk pace. She willed the heat in her cheeks to go away, but to no avail. Mina had figured she’d have been given more time to prepare before having to go on her date, but instead she’d only been told to leave last minute, making her feel sorely unprepared.

  
Aizawa led her through the palace, stopping in front of a set of bronze doors which were identical to every other doorway surrounding them. Mina had no idea how the man knew his way around, but decided to remain silent. “He’s inside. Good luck.”

  
The man was gone before she’d even had time to process his words. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, mentally stealing herself before pushing the doors open cautiously, her expression morphing into a hesitant smile. Katsuki was sitting by the window, leaning casually in wait as he gazed mindlessly at the gardens outside. His head whipped around at the sound of the door opening, and Mina slowly began walking towards him.

  
“Good, you’re finally here.” He said, in a tone that Mina honestly hadn’t expected Katsuki to speak in. The blonde gave the pink-haired girl a quick once-over, willing himself not to blush. She looked stunning. “Well, are you just going to stand there?”

  
Mina chuckled, walking forwards to close the distance between her and Katsuki. She broke her eyes away from the crimson one’s staring back at her, glancing around what was seemingly an art studio of some sort. “As nice as this all is, I hate to tell you I’m a dancer, not an artist.”

  
Katsuki shrugged nonchalantly, moving some supplies around to bring out what looked suspiciously like makeup brushes. “I never said that you had to be _good_.” He reassured her, and he took out eyeshadow palettes, confirming her theory of them being makeup brushes. “I don’t shit about doing makeup, and even if you don’t either, hopefully it’ll still be a bit of fun. So, want to do mine?”

  
That definitely was _not_ what Mina was expecting him to offer, and she couldn’t stop the giggle from tumbling from her lips. “You want me to do your _makeup_?” She questioned, incredulity clear in her tone as the corner of her lips quirked up into a smile.

The blonde shrugged, seeming a little uncomfortable. “I couldn’t decide on what to do for our date, so I asked my handmaid to set something up.” He scowled, looking down. “I realize now that was a mistake.”

  
Mina snorted. “You’ve got that right. Although, can’t say I’m opposed to the idea.” Katsuki sighed and cast a half-hearted glare at her, which she merely laughed at. “You can fuck with my makeup too if you want. That way we’re even.”

  
“You’ve got yourself a deal, Pinky,” he smirked, poking fun at her obnoxious shade of bubblegum colored hair. “But I’m butchering your face first.”

  
“Should I be scared?”

  
She absolutely should have been. It’s not that Katsuki was bad at doing her makeup, far from it in fact, but she still ended up looking more like a clown than herself. She guessed there was at least two inches worth of makeup covering her once smooth skin, and couldn’t help but groan loudly at the sight. “God, the acne I’m going to get after this!” She complained, which Katsuki laughed at. “This foundation doesn’t even match my skin tone!”

  
Naturally, revenge was in order. Everything Katsuki had done to her, she returned tenfold. The indignant shriek that left the Prince’s lips when he saw his reflection was absolutely worth it, even when he managed to find some stores of orange paint and flick it across her face.

  
After that, only chaos ensued, and by the end of things they were both covered in a multitude of colorful paint. A firm knock on the door shocked them into silence. “Who’s there?” Katsuki called out, a flush rising to his cheeks as he realized his compromising position. Mina was on top of him, pinning him to the ground in a playful manner as sky blue paint dripped onto his forehead slowly from on the table. 

  
“This is Nishio, one of the palace guards stationed nearby. I heard shrieks emanating from this room just a moment ago as I was passing by. Is everything alright, Your Highness?” He questioned, and Mina pressed a hand to her mouth in an attempt to stifle her giggle.

  
Katsuki playfully swatted at her arm, knowing full well that if she started giggling, he just might as well. “Yes, yes, we’re fine. I’m currently on a date with one of my suitors, so if you could please give us some privacy.” He requested. He heard Nishio sigh, and the sound of heavy footsteps followed.

  
Mina clambered off of him, moving to sit beside him on the ground as he sat up. “That was awkward.” She observed with a snort, and Katsuki teasingly elbowed her side. “Hey! What was that for?”

  
The blonde was glad for the paint that masked his blush then, because the sight of Mina pouting was honestly just too cute. God, what were these candidates doing to his sanity? He carelessly flicked some more paint onto her nose, choosing not to respond to her, which only made her pout more. “C’mon, let’s go get cleaned up. Dinner’s starting soon.”

  
He stood up, holding a hand out for her, which she took. Katsuki helped lift her to her feet, and they made their way outside discreetly, ignoring the odd looks they received for their current state. Mina smiled, and seemed to hesitate before leaning over and just barely pecking a surprisingly clean spot on his cheek. “I had fun,” she whispered, before turning on her heel and heading back towards her room to bathe.

  
Once again, Katsuki thanked the fact that every inch of his body was currently covered in paint, and that no one could see the unmistakable flush of his cheeks that stuck with him all the way back to his own room.

* * *

After dinner, Aizawa had stopped Katsuki in the hall on his way to his room to tell him that his father was requesting his presence. Katsuki sighed in annoyance, but went to go find his father anyways, hoping to get this over with quickly. He made it to Masaru’s office in record time, hesitating only a moment before slamming the doors open obnoxiously. 

  
“Katsuki,” his father said in surprise, looking away from his notes to meet his son’s eyes. “Good, you’re here. Take a seat.”

  
He gestured for one of the plush chairs seated across from his desk, and Katsuki hesitantly took a seat, his back still rigid. “What do you want?” His tone was sharp, and he narrowed his eyes menacingly at his father, an intimidation tactic he had picked up while observing his mother.

  
Masaru, surprisingly enough, didn’t seem phased. “There has been talk of a possible alliance between ours and Shigaraki’s Kingdom.” Masaru explained, and Katsuki furrowed his eyebrows at his father’s distraught expression. This was good news, wasn’t it? “On one condition.”

  
Ah, there it was. “This one condition being?”

  
“They want to form an alliance through marriage.”

  
Katsuki gaped at his father, the silence hanging thick in the air. All the blonde could hear was the blood rushing in his ears as he waited for his dad to shout, “psyche!” or for him to clarify that this was all just a prank.  
“No.” Katsuki said, standing up and glaring hotly at his father. “There is absolutely _no way_ —”

  
“Katsuki, listen.” His father cut him off, standing up to tower over Katsuki’s full height. “They’re sending three possible candidates for marriage next week to stay at the palace.”

  
Katsuki’s glare intensified. “And you decided all of this before you even told me?! I am in the middle of my own _Selection_ , I’m not having three _new_ suitors come for my hand at this time!” He argued, face flushing from anger.

  
“It’s not like you’re serious about this Selection anyways.” Masaru snapped, and Katsuki’s eye twitched in annoyance. He was right. “We’ll tell the public that they’re here to negotiate, and we’ll make up some sappy romance story about how you fell in love with one of them during their stay.”

  
“And what if I do want to take this Selection seriously?” Katsuki blurted before he had time to process what he was about to say.

  
“Katsuki, this is a matter of life and death. If you don’t form an alliance with Akuyaku through marriage, then we may be at war.” Masaru reminded his son, and Katsuki sighed.

  
“Well, figure something out then. Because if I fall in love with one of the Selected, I _will_ marry them.” The blonde stormed out of the room after that, and Masaru fell back into his seat with a dejected sigh. What in the world were they going to do?  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there are my meager attempts at drama :P
> 
> Also, I roleplay as Mina Ashido, so I feel slightly more in tune with her than any other character, so I might have the tendency to focus a lot of attention on her. Plus, she's my favorite female character as well <3
> 
> Next chapter I have a group date planned actually, and I'm still debating on whether or not I should do the fourth date chapter combined with the group date.
> 
> As per usual, here's a list of the remaining 25 candidates:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Kendo Itsuka – Seven  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Asui Tsuyu – Four  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four  
> Aoyama Yuga – Five  
> Hatsume Mei – Three  
> Kenranzaki Bibimi – Two
> 
> I'm planning on doing an elimination soon-ish, so be ready for that.
> 
> I'm going to attempt a new update schedule, so I'm going to try and update the fic every Tuesday and Friday. Hopefully, I'll be able to regularly stick to this schedule.
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! The next one should hopefully be out this upcoming Tuesday.
> 
> Edit: I made some art for this chapter (tried to, at least, its not very good XD) is it showing up alright?


	7. Baking With Bakugou

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter, yay! It's a decent length, maybe twice the length of the last one :D
> 
> I was going to also include the fourth one-on-one date, but I've decided that I'll save that for the next chapter.
> 
> Enjoy! It was pretty fun to write ^^

“Hey Katsuki,” Akira greeted casually, unaware of the seething blonde behind her turned back. At the sound of a groan, she glanced back at Katsuki. “What’s the matter?"

  
Katsuki clenched his fist, sitting restlessly on the edge of his bed. “My parents have made yet _another_ request of me.” He spat out, and Akira furrowed her brows, temporarily stopping her actions to sit beside her best friend.

  
“And that is?” She spoke softly, so as not to startle or anger him.

  
“They want me to form an alliance with Akuyaku.” He began, and Akira raised one quizzical brow, as if waiting for more of an explanation. “A marriage alliance.”

  
Akira sucked in a hesitant breath before speaking. “I’m guessing you said no?” She questioned quietly.

  
“Of course I said no!” He yelled, but Akira knew his anger wasn’t directed at her. She didn’t even flinch. “First they ask me to host a Selection, and the minute I start taking that seriously, they ask something else of me that contradicts that request! Why can’t they make up their fucking minds?”

  
“Yeah, but what happens if you _don’t_ form an alliance with Akuyaku?!” Akira snapped, cutting off the blondes rants. Katsuki looked at her in awe. She _never_ raised her voice. She took a deep breath, and continued, “If you don’t, we’ll be at war, won’t we?”

  
Katsuki solemnly shook his head yes, looking anywhere but at the girl beside of him. “Katsuki,” she said softly, but he refused to meet her eyes. “This is _war_ we’re talking about. I know you don’t want to hear it, but this isn’t about what you want. It’s about the greater good of the people.”

  
“But it’s _never_ about what I want!” He yelled as he blinked away tears welling up in his eyes. Now is _not_ the time to show weakness. “My life has always been planned out for me, and I was never allowed any say in it. For once, I have _freedom_ to make a choice for _myself_ , and what happens? Everyone tries to take that from me too! I didn’t ask to be a prince! I didn’t ask for this life!” Katsuki was clenching his fists so hard, he was sure he had broken the skin.

  
“Oh please,” Akira said, glaring harshly at the blonde. “As if _you_ have it bad. I would _kill_ to have the life you’re living! To never have to work a day in my life, to have everything handed to me! You can’t even begin to understand what it’s like outside of this damn palace, because life for you has always been so easy! I’m a _Six_ , Katsuki! Do you know what it’s like to be alone, and starving? To watch your friends and family slowly wither away from a harmless disease turned fatal just because you couldn’t afford treatment?”

  
The blonde stayed silent, but in that moment he thought of Eijiro, whose father had passed away because they couldn’t afford to treat his illness. Akira took his silence as a no. “Yeah. That’s what I thought Katsuki.” She snapped, standing up and walking towards the door. “Think about all the innocent lives that could be spared if we avoid going to war when you make your decision.

  
Katsuki snapped out of his stupor at the sound of his door slamming shut. He mindlessly crawled into bed, ignoring the fact that he still hadn’t bathed or changed yet. He could deal with that later. That night, Katsuki lied in his bed and cried himself to sleep, burdened by the decisions he was being forced to make.

* * *

“God, you guys again? What do you want?” Katsuki bit out, earning himself a sharp glare from his mother.

  
“By the end of next week,” she began. “We’ll have three new guests in the palace. I expect you to eliminate three of the Selected in order to make space. That’s all Katsuki, have a nice day.”

  
Katsuki was physically seething from the news all throughout breakfast, and the Selected were constantly sending him worried looks, which he ignored. He was too lost in thought to focus anyways. He had a little over a week to eliminate three candidates, which was not nearly enough time to meet with all of them. How would he know who to let go? What if he couldn’t decide in time?

  
Normally, he’d ask Akira for advice about this, but the two still weren’t talking. Katsuki realized that he was desperately missing her, but he was too stubborn to admit the fact. Instead, he ignored her, and she did the same to him. It was killing him inside, but it was all he knew how to do.

  
Instead, he sought the advice of another. Maybe they weren’t as close as him and Akira, but he still trusted this man’s judgement. “Aizawa, can I ask you something?”

  
The older man nodded, looking at Katsuki with the barest hint of confusion clouding his eyes. “What is it, Your Highness?”

  
“My parents have requested that I eliminate three of the Selected by the time our foreign guests arrive.” He explained, and Aizawa nodded his head solemnly.

  
“And you’re not sure how to decide who to eliminate.” He guessed, and Katsuki nodded in confirmation. “Well, you could always do a group date.”

  
He hadn’t thought of that. “That’s . . . actually a really good suggestion.” He admitted, and Aizawa chuckled softly. “Do you have any time to spare to help me set up?”

  
Aizawa shrugged nonchalantly. “I should, so long as nothing important comes up. Anyone you have in mind?”

  
“Well . . .” Katsuki thought back, trying to recall who stuck out in his mind. “There’s that blonde.”

  
Aizawa cocked a brow in confusion. “You’ll have to elaborate more, there are quite a few blondes in this group.” He pointed out, and Katsuki flushed in embarrassment.

  
“Just—just do a date with all of them.”

  
Aizawa snorted, the barest hints of a smile crossing his features. “Well, this is sure to be interesting.”

* * *

Denki understood that running through the palace halls _maybe_ wasn’t such a great idea, but when you’re ten minutes late for a date with the Prince, anyone would become desperate. But really, it was own damn fault that he ended up running straight into a tired looking violet-haired boy the minute he turned the corner, sending him falling back at least a few feet. “Sorry!”

  
The other man, who Denki vaguely recalled the name of which to be Shinso, hadn’t even stumbled when they collided. He reached a calloused hand out to Denki, a silent offer to help him up which the blonde took. “It’s fine, just watch where you’re going next time.” He grunted, and Denki muttered out another stream of apologies which Shinso rolled his eyes at.

  
“Sorry Shinso, I wasn’t paying attention. I’m supposed to be meeting up with the Prince for a group date, and by now I’m at least fifteen minutes late.” He huffed out a quick explanation, which Shinso simply waved away.

  
“Like I said, blondie, it’s all good. Go have fun on your date.” Denki smiled brightly at that, nodding his head excitedly and walking away at a fast pace. He called a hasty farewell over his shoulder, before running through the halls at breakneck speeds once again. Shinso chuckled softly, ignoring the touch of jealousy blooming in his chest.

  
It only took another two minutes for Denki to arrive at the kitchens, but you’d imagine it was two years based on the glares everyone was directing at him. He chuckled sheepishly, slowly walking to the crowd of five blondes standing in the center of the room, by the island. “Sorry guys, I ran into someone in the halls by accident.”

  
The Prince sucked his teeth. “Whatever. Let’s just move on.” He said gruffly, and Denki nodded his head rapidly. He glanced around at the other Selected there: Bibimi Kenranzaki, Neito Monoma, Camie Utsushimi, and Yuga Aoyama. In other words, all the blondes in the group except for Mirio. “We’re going to be cooking tonight’s dinner. You don’t have to be any good, it’s just supposed to be for fun so don’t stress about it too much.

  
“We’re going to be pairing up, and switching partners occasionally so that you _all_ have a chance to spend alone time with me. Certain dishes take more time than others, so time distribution won’t be necessarily even.” He explained, and Denki fidgeted nervously, hoping he’d get to spend enough time with the Prince to leave an impression. “Another thing to remember, I’m going to be making an elimination at the end of this date.”

  
The room was filled with tense silence. The Selected all glanced at each other, wondering who it would be that’s going to be eliminated. Monoma looked at Denki haughtily. Denki had already been over fifteen minutes late, giving him an immediate disadvantage. He was good-looking too, and Monoma considered him to be a threat. One that he’d have to take care of.

  
“Well, let’s get cooking!” Camie said enthusiastically, ignorant of the tense atmosphere. “We’ve gotta be done by dinner time, yeah?”

  
Denki smiled, joining in on her eagerness. “Yeah! Let’s get this date started!”

  
“What a bunch of idiots,” Monoma muttered under his breath. “How will the partnering system work?” He questioned aloud.

  
“We’re going to be making ten dishes in total. That means that for every two dishes, I’ll be switching partners to work with someone else, and by the end I’ll have spent a little bit of time with all of you. We have 28 mouths to feed, so each group is going to be making 10 servings for each dish. On the recipe, it will list the ingredients needed for _one_ serving, so just multiply the amounts given by ten. Sound simple enough?” Katsuki asked, and everyone murmured their agreement. “Good. Let’s get started cooking. First, I’ll be working with Yuga Aoyama. The rest of you, find someone to partner with.”

  
Denki and Camie immediately sought each other out, moving to their own workstation and leaving Monoma alone with Bibimi. “We’re doing two dishes per course, so the first course is soup. The two recipes you’ll be working on are Thai Curried Pumpkin Soup and Toasted Orzo Soup. Here are the recipes for each. Remember to make ten servings, not just one.” Aizawa droned in his usual monotone voice, passing out two recipe sheets to each group. “Everything you need is already set out for you. Begin.”

  
“Have you ever cooked before?” Katsuki questioned, gathering the ingredients needed for the Thai Curried Pumpkin Soup closest to them.

  
Yuga nodded, setting one of the burners on the stove to medium-high heat. “I’m not an exceptional cook, but I’ve had plenty experience.” He set a pan on the stove, pouring in the coconut oil as Katsuki began dicing the onions. “You seem to be experienced as well.” He noted.

  
Katsuki nodded, checking the recipe every now and then to make sure he had the right amount. “I love to cook, and I’d like to say I’m pretty good at it too.” He said, not quite bragging. “Here’s the onion, go ahead and add it in.”

  
Yuga complied, pouring the diced onions into the pan next. “Given your upbringing it’s surprising that you know how to cook. Do you think that’s what profession you would pursue if you weren’t the Prince?” He questioned, and Katsuki thought it over before responding.

  
“Well, yeah, probably. I’m good at it, and cooking is fun so, yeah. I’d be a chef.” He admitted, and Yuga smiled softly. “What was your job before coming here?”

  
As Katsuki minced the garlic, Yuga mindlessly sautéed the onions. “I was a painter, before coming here. I had a low wage, but it was fun all the same.” He said wistfully.

  
“There are places within the palace where you can paint.” Katsuki said, indirectly referring to the place where he and Mina had gone on their date. “Maybe I can show you sometime.”

  
“That would be wonderful,” Yuga said, and Katsuki didn’t have to be looking at him to know he was smiling. “Here, I think it’s time to add some of the other ingredients.”

  
“Right,” Katsuki said briefly, adding in the curry paste and coriander. Yuga poured in the garlic, which Katsuki had only just finished cutting, and included the cumin as well before continuing to sauté the mixture. As the contents were being cooked, Katsuki began separately starting the second soup. “I’ll start this while that cooks. Keep an eye on it.”

  
Katsuki and Yuga had made considerable progress on their dishes, whereas Denki and Camie had barely gotten started. “Are you sure we’re doing this right? What does _sauté_ even mean?” Camie complained, and Denki looked at the ingredients in front of him in confusion.

  
“What’s cumin, again?” He asked, and Camie shrugged her shoulders helplessly. Aizawa sighed at the pair’s antics, walking over to the two blondes and beginning to help them prepare their soups.

  
“Well, you’ve got the pan on the stove at least. Now, pour in the coconut oil and wait for it to melt.” He explained, but they both just stared at him blankly. He glared at the pair and pulled over the container that clearly said ‘coconut oil’ on the label. “This.”

  
“Okay, okay,” Denki said, grabbing two measuring cups; a tablespoon and a third of a tablespoon. “So, if I pour in one tablespoon, that’s like three times as much as the recipe calls for, right?”

  
Aizawa sighed. “Yeah, you’re right.” Denki smiled and nodded, pouring in three tablespoons, to equal nine times what the recipe was calling for. “Now pour in a third of a tablespoon.” Aizawa explained slowly.

  
The older man spent the rest of the time explaining step by step how to make the two recipes to Denki and Camie, while Monoma and Bibimi were having slightly more success.

  
If Monoma saw Denki as a threat, then he saw Bibimi almost as a rival. She seemed like the only other person there that he _really_ had to compete with. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right? But as much as he tried, they were both too stubborn to really get along, and each attempted to do all the work. In the end, they split up. Bibimi worked on the Thai Curried Pumpkin Soup, while Monoma worked alone on the Toasted Orzo Chicken Soup.

  
“I’m almost finished cooking Neito, so you might want to hurry it up a bit.” Bibimi teased, knowing full well the Monoma wasn’t even halfway done. Then again, his recipe did take a lot more time than hers because it had chicken in it.

  
“Shut up Bibimi, and let me work.” He snapped, and the girl beside him cackled loudly. “Be quiet, will you? I’m trying _not_ to lose my hearing before the age of 50.”

  
She snorted. “Well, I’m done. Need any help from your superior chef?” She boasted, and Monoma rolled his eyes.

  
“Yeah, I’d love it if the Prince came over to help me cook.” He said instead, and she clicked her tongue. “If you want to do something, go help dumb and dumber over there. Looks like they’re still not done with the first soup.”

  
“Y’know, maybe I will.” She said haughtily, moving over to where Aizawa was helping Denki and Camie. “I can help them out from here. Neito’s being stubbornly independent.” She rolled her eyes, flashing a smile at Aizawa who moved away, breathing a sigh of relief. Instead, the older man moved towards where Katsuki and Yuga were working.

  
“How’s it going you two?” He questioned, and Katsuki didn’t even glance at him.

  
“Good.” Was all he said, and Aizawa raised his eyebrows as if to ask for the blonde to elaborate. “We’re almost done with the second soup.”

  
“It smells pretty good too.” Yuga chirped, and Aizawa had to admit he agreed. “How are the other groups fairing?”

  
Aizawa shrugged, glancing at Denki and Camie who had finally started on the second soup due to Bibimi’s helpful hand. “Some are further along than others. Denki and Camie don’t seem to show much prowess in cooking.” He muttered, rolling his eyes.

  
Katsuki snorted. “How much longer do you think those two will take?”

  
“They just started the Toasted Orzo Chicken Soup.”

  
Everyone jumped at the sound of a loud groan filling the room.

* * *

“You’re not allowed to take forever with this recipe, dunce face.”

  
Denki whined in protest. “I didn’t take _that_ long with the soups!” He argued.

  
“Yeah, because Bibimi was there to help you.” He pointed out, and Denki pouted. “Luckily, we’re literally making salad, so there really shouldn’t be anything you can mess up.”

  
Denki’s pout only seemed to get worse. “Aw, boo. That means less time with you.” He complained, and Katsuki rolled his eyes.

  
“If you don’t get moving, it’ll take just as long as the last one.” Katsuki reminded him.

  
“Promise?”

  
Katsuki snorted. “C’mon blondie, let’s get started.”

  
“ _You’re_ blonde too, y’know.”

* * *

“Yum, these look really good.” Camie commented mindlessly as her and the Prince watched over the pork dumplings while they steamed. “This whole thing is making me hungry.”

  
“We’re having dinner as soon as we’re done in here, you can wait until then.” Katsuki said, rolling his eyes.

  
“Aw, c’mon. We’re making two extra servings anyways, can’t I eat just one?” She begged, and Katsuki snorted, shaking his head. “Aw, fine. I’ll just eat it when your back is turned.”

  
“Camie, _no_.” Katsuki argued, but the blonde girl’s eyes were fixed on the cooking dumplings.

  
“Camie, _yes_.”

  
While the pair argued, Denki stared helplessly at Yuga as he walked around their area, cooking both appetizers single-handedly. “Are you _sure_ you don’t need any help?” He asked.

  
“No offense, mon ami, but you will only make things worse.” Yuga said, not even glancing at Denki as he groaned and pouted, leaning against the counter. Every now and then, he would glance back at what Katsuki and Camie were doing, wishing he were there with them. “I see you looking at the Prince. Wish you had gotten more time with him?”

  
“Yeah,” Denki admitted dejectedly. “I just hope I don’t end up going home, so I can still have another chance to spend time with him.”

  
Yuga hummed his acknowledgement, focusing once again on baking rather than the boy beside him.

* * *

“You’re a really good cook, Your Highness.” Monoma commented, smiling sweetly at Katsuki.

  
“I know.” Was all he replied with, and Monoma’s smile became slightly more strained. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

  
“Why thank you, Your Highness.” Monoma said smugly.

  
“Don’t let it get to your head. I’m sure your ego doesn’t need any more inflation.” The comment made Monoma’s eye involuntarily twitch.

* * *

Katsuki was sure his eardrums had busted by now, due to Bibimi’s constant raucous laughter. It wasn’t just her laugh, it was also the fact that she seemed to find _everything_ to be funny; meaning the stream of laughter flowing from her windpipes was practically never-ending. But Katsuki, trying to be polite, didn’t comment on her laugh, and instead droned on through the rest of the meal.

  
They were on the last course, meaning they were almost done. Almost everyone in the room had complained about their hunger at some point or another, and Katsuki had to admit his stomach was even growling a bit as well.

  
“Alright, looks like we’re done, Bibimi.” Katsuki said, fighting to keep the joy out of his voice.

  
“It would seem other groups are as well, Your Highness.” Aizawa commented, having been listening in to what Katsuki had said. Katsuki nodded, and clapped loudly to try and gain everyone’s attention. Surprisingly enough, it worked.

  
“It looks like we’re all done with our final dishes, so all that’s left is clean-up. Since we made the mess, we clean it up. Any of you may feel free to approach me during this time.” Katsuki added, and he started piling up dishes and measuring cups, bringing them over to the sink to wash. While he was cleaning, Yuga sidled up next to him with a sly smile, and an obnoxious wink.

  
“Did you have fun, Your Highness?” He questioned meekly, washing his own dishes side-by-side with Katsuki.

  
“Yeah. It was a lot more fun than I expected, at least.” He said in a monotone voice, feeling slightly drained after having been around Bibimi so long.

  
“I’m glad I was able to spend some time with you.” Yuga said happily, an excited sheen shining in his baby blue eyes. “Although, some people seemed a little bitter about _not_ having as much time with you.”

  
Katsuki perked up at this. “What do you mean?”

  
“Well, maybe it’s best if I don’t say.” He muttered, but started speaking again at Katsuki’s demanding glare. “Denki and I were working together on the appetizers, and I couldn’t help but notice that he was just . . . well he was acting kind of rude. He wouldn’t help me cook any of the food, and he even said he was upset he didn’t get more time with you on your dish.” Yuga shrugged. “I don’t know. He was just being a little unfair about it is all.”

  
Katsuki watched Yuga’s back as he walked away, narrowing his eyes.

  
Yuga had definitely been lying.

* * *

“Before we eat,” Katsuki began, looking over each member of the Selected that were there in turn. “I’m going to announce who of you has been eliminated.” A tense hush fell over the group, and Katsuki noticed both Yuga and Monoma glance over at Denki. “Yuga Aoyama, thank you for your efforts, but your time here is done.”

  
Yuga stared at him with wide eyes, before tears began gathering in them as he slowly walked out of the kitchen. “The reason why he was dismissed,” Katsuki continued. “Is because he attempted to deceive me by spreading untruthful rumors about another one of you. I won’t tolerate anyone lying to me, _especially_ about another candidate.” He stared the four remaining down, hoping they understood. “Now, let’s eat, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're now down to only 24 candidates, and eventually I'll be eliminating two more. I've already decided who those two will be, and since I need Katsuki to spend one-on-one time with them, I'm not going to ask for date recommendations for a while. I have up to the tenth date planned out, and then I'll start asking for requests again ^^
> 
> Since Aoyama is gone, here's the list of now 24 Selected left as well as their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Kendo Itsuka – Seven  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Asui Tsuyu – Four  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four  
> Hatsume Mei – Three  
> Kenranzaki Bibimi – Two
> 
> Like I said before, the fourth date will be next chapter, so look forward to that! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll be posting the next one this Friday.


	8. A Walk Through the Gardens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! A new chapter! I'm posting a little later than I would have liked, but my computer's been an ass the past couple days so I had to rush a bit to write it all in time. I actually had more planned for the chapter, but I guess that just means I'll have to save it for next chapter.
> 
> Anyways, the fourth date is finally here! Next chapter will be the fifth date, and some other things I didn't have time to cover in this chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Mina, where’s Aoyama?” Tsuyu questioned at dinner, and Mina shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the room.

  
“I’m not sure where he’s at.” She admitted. Every member from the group date had already arrived, with one exception, that being Yuga. Maybe he wasn’t feeling well?

  
“I heard from the next table over that he was dismissed.” Kendo piped up, leaning over to join in on the conversation. It seemed as if Tamaki was listening to what they were saying as well, although he was so shy that he rarely ever spoke up. “I guess the Prince has gotta start eliminating more people eventually.”

  
Mina felt conflicted, feeling a mix of both sad that Yuga was gone and relieved that she was still there. Since the pair sat side-by-side at dinner, they had formed a quick friendship, and it sucked that he wasn’t going to be there anymore. But, in the end, everyone but one of the Selected would eventually have to leave as well, so Mina figured it was probably best to be prepared for any of your closest friends to leave at any time.

  
“I wonder what he did to get eliminated.” Tsuyu pondered aloud, tilting her head to the side in thought. “We should ask the others, that way we don’t end up making the same mistake.”

  
“What if he was being pressured into making an elimination by others? Maybe he just needed someone to eliminate is all.” Kendo pointed out, and Mina shrugged.

  
“He does seem kinda closed off, but he wouldn’t do that to someone without at least giving them a chance. That much I can tell.” Mina said. Maybe she did have a slightly better idea of what the Prince was actually like, being the only one of the three to have been on a date with him. “If he eliminated Yuga, there had to have been a reason.”

* * *

“Denki, you were there. What’s the deal with Yuga?” Mina questioned later that night, as their usual group sat by the fire, this time accompanied by both Momo and Kyoka as well. It was strange because, for once, the Queen was there with the Selected, sitting in a corner reading a book. So far she hadn’t approached anyone, and no one had the nerve to approach her.

  
“Well, obviously he got dismissed, but I guess you guys knew as much.” Denki said, putting his hands near the fire and smiling at the warmth.

  
“Yeah, Monoma was talking about it at dinner. What’d he do to get eliminated?” Eijiro asked, wordlessly pulling Denki away from the flames as he leaned a little too close.

  
“Well, I’m not really sure what he said, but the Prince just told us that he lied to him about someone else who was on the date. Basically was trying to sabotage them.” Denki explained, shrugging. “I wonder who he was talking about, though. Hope it wasn’t me.”

  
“Good thing the Prince at least knew he was lying. What if he believed what Aoyama had said?” Kyoka asked.

  
“Then there probably would be a different person going home.” Momo pointed out. “After all, that was most likely his intended purpose. Trying to both ensure his spot in the Selection and take out a fellow competitor that he may have seen as a threat.”

  
“Kind of a dick move, though, if you ask me.” Hanta said, and Denki nodded in agreement. “We should be trying to win on our own terms, not tear each other down. This is a competition, yeah, but really there’s no way for us to actually _compete_ without it going against the rules. We just have to chill out, be ourselves, and hope that’s enough.”

  
“Yeah, you’re right,” Kyoka agreed, nodding. “We can’t let this get to our heads. I know that we’re not exactly here to make friends, but there’s nothing stopping us. If we’re at each other’s throats all the time, it’d be pretty lonely.”

  
“Well, I wish everyone thought like that.” Eijiro said, sighing and laying his head back. He definitely hadn’t missed the jealous glares sent his way every now and then because he’d had a one-on-one date with the Prince. Yeah, he definitely wasn’t complaining, but it was the Prince’s choice, so it kind of upset him that they were rude to him based off of that.

  
Mina sighed. “Yeah, me too.” She said. Noticing that the atmosphere was getting a little tense, she decided to change the topic. “Todoroki’s getting the next date, right?”

  
Momo nodded, glancing at the dual-haired boy over her shoulder, who was currently sitting and talking with Izuku, Tenya, Mei, Ochaco, Tsuyu and Hitoshi. “Yeah, he told me last night that they’re having their date in the gardens.” She said, looking back over at the group she was surrounded by.

  
“He doesn’t look all that excited about it.” Denki noted. When he found out about the group date, he’d been all smiles for a full 24 hours. Shoto was getting a private date with the Prince, and his expression was as blank as ever.

  
“Well, even if he is excited, I don’t think we’d noticed.” Hanta said, and Denki hummed in agreement, leaning even closer to the fire. “Careful, Denks, you’re going to burn yourself.”

  
Denki huffed, scooching even closer in retaliation. Hanta sighed, and the blonde smirked. “The dude hardly moved a muscle when he found out the news. I’ve seen him show more emotion in one conversation with Midoriya.”

  
“What if he isn’t even interested in the Prince?” Kyoka suggested, and the group looked at her in shock. “What? You honestly believe every single person here is in love with the Prince?”

  
“He’s a Two, he’s not here for the money.” Hanta reasoned, and Kyoka nodded.

  
“I didn’t say he was. But what about the crown?” An awkward silence fell over the group.

* * *

“Are you excited for your date, Todoroki?” Izuku asked, smiling brightly at the heterochromatic boy.

  
Shoto shrugged. “I guess.” The short response caused a lot of confused looks to be thrown his way, but he honestly didn’t care. He wasn’t here to win, and he didn’t care who knew.

  
“I’d be if I were in your shoes,” Izuku said, sighing dreamily. Shoto really wasn’t sure what Izuku saw in the Prince. Sure, he was good-looking, but he was also an asshole. Besides, if anyone asked, Shoto would say that Izuku was much more attractive than the Prince was. “I’d love to be invited on a date with the Prince.”

  
“I’m sure we’ll all get our chance at some point or another.” Iida said, and Izuku smiled happily. “I hope your date goes well, Todoroki.”

  
“Thanks.” Shoto replied, in the same monotone voice as always. “It’s actually fairly soon, so I think it’s best I head off to prepare. See you all tomorrow.”

  
Shoto left, sighing heavily and heading to his room. Once there, he changed into something to better accommodate the warm Shizuoka weather, and left for the gardens. There really was no harm in being early, right?

  
Izuku stared at the door long after Shoto had left, wondering why the other boy seemed so upset about his date. He was so distracted he didn’t notice the sudden absence of everyone around him talking, or a new presence stalking towards their group. “Your name is Izuku Midoriya, correct?” He turned his head at the sound of a feminine voice.

  
It was the Queen.

* * *

“How long have you been here?” If Shoto was surprised by Katsuki’s presence, he didn’t show it.

  
“Around half an hour. It’s really nice here.” He said, turning to meet Katsuki’s eyes. He let his gaze drop as he looked instead at the scenery. “My mother always loved flowers.”

  
“Do you miss her?” Katsuki inquired. Based on Shoto’s soft tone, and the passionate look in his eyes, he did.

  
“So much.” He whispered. “But as much as I miss her, I don’t think I could bear to see her either.”

  
“What do you mean?” Katsuki asked, but Shoto remained silent. “Well?”

  
“This is meant to be a walk, yes? Come on then.” Shoto said, evading the question. Katsuki huffed but begrudgingly offered his arm to Shoto, as was custom. Shoto looked uncomfortable with the prospect, but took his arm anyways, standing stiffly by his side.

  
“You seem ill at ease.” Katsuki pointed out, retracting his arm. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to do, half’n’half.”

  
“Do you always give your suitors nicknames like that?” Shoto asked, and Katsuki shrugged.

  
“It’s a bad habit of mine.” Katsuki admitted. “And, y’know, habits are hard to break.”

  
“Yeah.” Was all Shoto replied, and then he fell silent. Katsuki waited for him to say something else, and sighed when he didn’t.

  
“Do you have any siblings?” Katsuki asked, attempting to keep a conversation going, despite how hard it was with Shoto. Maybe he was just shy?

  
Shoto nodded. “I have three siblings. I’m the youngest.”

  
“What’s it like? Having siblings, I mean.” Katsuki was an only child after all, and even though he would hate for anyone else to have to suffer through the hell he’s been put through at the palace, it gets a bit lonely at times.

  
“I don’t think I’m a good person to ask. I and my siblings aren’t close.” He muttered, looking down.

  
“Why’s that?” Katsuki inquired, a little confused.

  
“I just don’t see them often, is all.” Shoto said shortly. “Do you come to the gardens often?” He asked, deftly changing the subject.

  
Katsuki hummed, deciding it was best to drop the old subject. “Yeah, it’s peaceful here.” He said softly, looking around. To anyone else, the garden must have really been a sight to behold. But Katsuki was used to everything around him being this beautiful. He loved the gardens, but he wished he fully appreciate its beauty. “Do you like it?”

  
Shoto nodded, a soft smile gracing his features. Katsuki sucked in a tense breath, shocked by how beautiful the heterochromatic man looked when he smiled. “You’re right, it is peaceful. Soothes me.” He said, sighing contentedly.

  
“You should smile more often.” Katsuki whispered, and Shoto looked at him in surprise. Katsuki flushed, not having meant to say that out loud. “You look nice when you do, I guess.” He muttered, backtracking on his former statement.

  
“Oh. Thanks.” Shoto muttered. “I didn’t smile that much as a kid, so I guess old habits die hard.”

  
Katsuki wanted to ask about his childhood, but figured that Shoto would just tense up and avoid his questions, so instead he held his tongue. “I’ll just have to find new ways to make you smile, I guess.”

  
The corners of Shoto’s mouth lifted up again, and Katsuki felt himself smiling a bit at the sight. “I enjoyed our time together.” Shoto said, and Katsuki furrowed his eyebrows. It sounded like Shoto was about to say goodbye. Then, Katsuki noticed that they had made a full round through the garden, and were now nearing the entrance where two guards were standing in wait. “See you tomorrow, Your Highness.”

  
Shoto reached for Katsuki’s hand, taking it and pressing a gentle kiss against his knuckles. The gesture was so sweet, that Katsuki almost missed how tense Shoto was. “Good night, Shoto.” Katsuki whispered, feeling a mix between confusion and joy. The date had gone wonderfully.

  
So why did Shoto seem so uncomfortable?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Todoroki, yet another character that I struggle to write in character. Sorry if Bakugou and Todoroki are kinda ooc in this chapter, I just suck at getting their personalities down correctly.
> 
> Next chapter is the fifth date, plus some other things I wasn't able to squeeze in this chapter. We're also going to find out what Mitsuki wanted to talk to Deku about next chapter.
> 
> I'll have the next chapter out by next Tuesday, so look forward to that.
> 
> As usual, here's the list of the 24 Selected remaining and their caste, just to refresh your memory:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Kendo Itsuka – Seven  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Asui Tsuyu – Four  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four  
> Hatsume Mei – Three  
> Kenranzaki Bibimi – Two
> 
> There you go! Can't wait for the next chapter!


	9. A New Royal Advisor?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, an on time update! This chapter actually wasn't so hard to write, although it's a bit short. There were two things I wanted to do last chapter but I'm glad I saved them for this chapter instead, because this chapter is already short enough on it's own.
> 
> But here we are! The fifth date is here, and it is a little short, but I intended for it to be (plus I'm running low on date ideas so I didn't want to go into the specifics of their date).
> 
> Enjoy the chapter, and I'll have another out Friday with the sixth date and hopefully some added character development and/or drama on the side!

“What is it you wished to speak with me about, Your Highness?” Izuku asked, shifting uncomfortably as he sat beside the Queen in a secluded corner of the Selected parlor. Many of his fellow candidates were looking at them curiously, but he tried to ignore their stares.

  
“All in due time, Sir Izuku. You’re a Six, yes?” She asked, and Izuku furrowed his brows in confusion. She noticed this and chuckled softly. “I’m merely trying to confirm something. I’ll explain it all in just a moment.”

  
He was still confused, but he answered her question anyways. “Yes, I am—or was, I suppose—a Six before coming here.” He said politely.

  
She nodded, smiling softly. “You know, I was a Six myself before I became queen. Participated in my very own Selection with my husband, the King.” Izuku was honestly shocked at the news. He hadn’t expected the Queen, who genuinely looked as if she had been born royalty, to originally have been from such a low caste. “Do you know of the village Musutafu?”

  
Izuku nodded. “That’s the village I come from, actually.” He said slowly, wondering where the Queen was going with all this.

  
“Well, yes, I figured. I came from there too. I didn’t have many friends, due to my aggressive nature, but I was very close to one girl, whom I haven’t spoken to in so long.” She said wistfully, a faraway look evident in her crimson eyes. Suddenly, she snapped her attention back to him. “And you resemble her, so much. In fact, you bear her very name. Do you know of Inko Midoriya?”

  
Izuku had to hold himself from gasping, although he was sure his jaw was on the floor by now. “She . . . That’s my mother’s name.” Izuku said incredulously, and the Queen smiled.

  
“You look so much like her, you know. But still, I had to confirm my suspicions. Why don’t you go by your father’s name?” She asked at last, a hard edge to her voice.

  
“He and my mom were married, but a few years after she had me, he went out on business and never returned. She chose to go by her maiden name afterwards.” He looked down at his hands nervously. “If you are implying that my mother broke the law, then no, she has not.”

  
The Queen sighed in relief. “That’s good. I worried. I’m guessing by your surprise that Inko never spoke of me?” She asked, a hint of sadness at the edge of her tone.

  
Izuku thought back. She had certainly never mentioned knowing the Queen on such a personal level, but now that he thought about it, there were several instances where she could have been referring to the Queen without him realizing. “I think she did talk about you, now that I think about it. She just never said your name, so I never realized.” He replied.

  
The blonde smiled sadly, gently patting Izuku’s shoulder. “I hope she is doing well. I’m glad to see that she was able to start a family, albeit a small one. Thank you for your time, Sir Izuku.” She said softly, and Izuku rose from his seat.

  
“Just call me Izuku, please? You’re a family friend.” He said, hoping he wasn’t being too forward. This was the Queen after all, family friend or not.

  
Lucky for him, the Queen simply beamed. “Well, so long as you call me Mitsuki.” She said, and then added almost as an afterthought, “Izuku.”

* * *

“You seem tense, Your Highness,” Kendo said, gazing at Katsuki knowingly as he sighed, attempting to relax his shoulders. “Is something amiss?”

  
Katsuki began shaking his head, but stopped at the pointed glare Kendo was directing at him. “It’s nothing important.” Katsuki said, brushing off the topic, hoping Kendo would drop it. Turns out she’s more stubborn than he’d first expected.

  
“You know, you can talk to me about it. If you want.” Kendo offered, and Katsuki hesitated. “Sometimes other people’s perspective helps you when making a tough decision.”

  
“I didn’t mention anything about making a decision.” Katsuki pointed out, although she was completely right.

  
“You seem conflicted. Talk to me.” She said, and Katsuki sighed, giving in. He explained the situation to her, and she took it all in, waiting until he was done before speaking again. “So your parents want you to marry someone from Akuyaku to form an alliance?”

  
“Yeah,” Katsuki said in an upset and slightly dejected tone. Kendo scoffed and he was a bit shocked by the reaction, looking at her in surprise.

  
“Most people of Akuyaku are _criminals_ , Katsuki. If you marry one of them, they’re going to assassinate you the moment you become King, and take your throne. Honestly? War is better than a tyranny, if you ask me.” Kendo said, and Katsuki gaped at her. Not only was she the only one to side with him on the matter, but she also had a pretty good argument.

  
Katsuki hadn’t even thought of the possibility that if he did marry someone from Shigaraki’s kingdom, they would just try to take sole control of his throne, and he’s honestly disappointed in himself for not realizing that sooner. “Fuck, you’re right.” Katsuki whispered, and Kendo shrugged.

  
“Why was it that you didn’t want to form the alliance?” She asked, and Katsuki glanced at the redhead briefly.

  
“If I’m going to get married, I at least want to get married for love, I guess.” Katsuki muttered, and Kendo smiled.

  
“Could you see yourself being with me?” Katsuki was silent, and Kendo took that as an answer. “So why am I still here?”

  
“What if,” Katsuki began, deciding not to answer her question. Mostly because he wasn’t actually sure. “What if you don’t leave. And become one of my royal advisors.”

  
Kendo seemingly choked on air, and Katsuki stared at her intently, waiting for a response. “ _What_?”

“You seem like a capable, levelheaded woman. I’m offering you a job. You’re right, I don’t see us being together, I knew it from the start. But I appreciate your opinions, and value your input. So is it a yes, or a no?”

  
Kendo gaped at Katsuki for another 60 seconds before finally coming to her senses. “Wow, you’re not joking, are you?” She asked rhetorically. Katsuki stayed silent, waiting for her answer. “I . . . yes. Yes, I’m taking the job. Can I remain living in the room I’m in right now?”

  
Katsuki snorted, but nodded his head. Royal advisor was an important position, and their rooms were just as lavishly decorated as that of the Selected’s. Moving Kendo to a new room would only be an inconvenience for her and others. “You can stay where you’re at. And you can still go into the Selected’s parlor if you have any friends in there you want to talk to.”

  
Kendo beamed, and suddenly she was hugging him tightly. Katsuki stood stiffly, awkwardly patting her arm. Kendo chuckled at his tenseness. “Thank you for your kindness, Your Highness. I won’t let you down.”

* * *

“You’ve just returned from a date, yes?” Akira asked in an overly polite tone, and Katsuki jumped at the sound of her voice. She hadn’t spoken to him since their fight, and even this was better than nothing.

  
“Yeah, I went on a date with Kendo.” He said shortly, and she hummed in acknowledgement.

  
“Well, did you have a good time?” She asked, after the silence began dragging on.

  
“Actually, I dismissed her from the Selection.” Akira looked up in surprise.

  
“She never left the palace.” Akira pointed out, and Katsuki nodded, sitting down on the edge of his bed, watching Akira as she went about cleaning his already spotless room.

  
“I offered her a job here.” Katsuki said, and Akira raised an eyebrow, turning away from the shelf she had been cleaning for the past ten minutes. Katsuki shrugged, leaning back to lie on his bed.

  
Akira resumed her work, and once again silence filled the room. “So, I suppose you haven’t made a decision about the alliance?” Akira asked quietly, and Katsuki internally groaned. He really didn’t want a repeat of their last argument.

  
“Yes, I think I have. Kendo gave me some advice, actually.” He said.

  
“That being?” She asked, putting down her supplies and coming to sit beside of him on the very edge of his bed, so as to keep the sheets clean.

  
“That I shouldn’t do the alliance.” Katsuki heard a sigh escape Akira’s lips, and glared at the ceiling, trying to contain his anger before he ended up lashing out at her. “Actually, she had a pretty interesting perspective on the matter.”

  
“Well, what was it? Other than the whole ‘marrying for love’ excuse you use.” Katsuki clenched his fist. Never in his life had he been so upset with Akira, but he could tell she was only saying these things because she was angry too.

  
“She said that when they marry me, they’re merely going to kill me and steal the crown.” Katsuki said abrasively, and a hush fell over the room, broken soon by Akira.

  
“Oh.”

  
“Yeah.” He said, leaning his head back and sighing. “So, you still want me to go through with it now?”

  
Akira was silent for a moment, and then she sighed and leaned over to wrap her arms around Katsuki in a hug. “I think Kendo was right. Maybe it is best to avoid the marriage.” She whispered. Katsuki could still hear a bit of strain in her voice, and he knew that she didn’t fully agree with it, but she would never want Katsuki to _die_ either.

  
“Well, that’s what I’m trying to do.” Katsuki muttered sadly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there we have it. Akira and Bakugou have kinda made up, so yay :D Also, Kendo has technically been eliminated (although she hasn't necessarily been dismissed), so we're still going to see more of her in the future, but she just won't be competing.
> 
> Another thing, I mentioned in my previous notes that I'm running low on date ideas, so if anyone has any suggestions for what Bakugou could do on some of his dates, please leave a comment with your suggestion! This means both one-on-one dates and group dates, since I'm shit at coming up with ideas for either.
> 
> Since Kendo has been eliminated, here's the list of the remaining 23 Selected and their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Asui Tsuyu – Four  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four  
> Hatsume Mei – Three  
> Kenranzaki Bibimi – Two
> 
> I might start doing two dates a chapter, because at the rate I'm going at now, this fic will pretty much never end. I really need to narrow the number of Selected down to a more manageable level, so next chapter might be the sixth AND seventh date if I have time.
> 
> Anyways, I'll be posting again by Friday (although there's no set time that I post, really it's just at random), so look forward to that new chapter being out soon. Cya then!


	10. First Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, an update! I'm honestly shocked by myself at the fact that I'm managing to get these updates done on time too.
> 
> Well, I'm not going to outright say it but I think you can guess what's going to happen in this chapter based on the title. What happened in this chapter actually wasn't planned out, but I felt like it was the right moment, and here we are.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, because even though I couldn't think of literally anything for Katsuki to do on this date, I just kinda went with something really basic and it worked out well (hopefully-).

Breakfast the next morning was a tense affair, as everyone didn’t fail to notice Kendo’s now empty seat. She had been a good contender as well—pretty, well-mannered, polite, and levelheaded. Kendo would have made for a wonderful queen and wife, so many wondered what she had done to possibly get dismissed. Of course, as soon as breakfast was over, constant chatter and gossip filled the Selected’s parlor about what had happened with Kendo.

  
That was until the redhead herself walked in, casually walking towards the same group she usually talked to, consisting of Monoma, Shiozaki, and Tetsutetsu. Many people started to get up to ask her where she had been, but Kendo raised a hand and they all stopped in their tracks for a moment.

  
“Before anyone asks, yes I’ve been eliminated. I’m just not leaving the palace.” Apparently, that really wasn’t a good enough explanation, as everyone got up to swarm the girl and she sighed in disdain. “The Prince offered me a job, as a royal advisor. I’m going to continue living in the palace, and have full access to this parlor, but I’m not competing anymore.”

  
Silence filled the parlor, until someone finally spoke up. “Well, damn, congrats on getting the job.” Tetsutetsu said, and Kendo smiled at him. “Glad it means we still get to have ya here.”

  
Kendo sighed, and slowly the crowd around her dissipated. She sat back down with her friends, thanking Tetsutetsu for his words. “Yeah, I’m glad I get to stay too. I’m a little upset that the Prince didn’t have any interest in me really, but at least I have the opportunity to stay. I’m not sure this has actually ever happened before.”

  
“Well, most Selected just aren’t like you Kendo.” Tetsutetsu praised, and Kendo flushed. The silver-haired man was happy for his friend for getting such an important position within the palace without even _trying_ , but he also couldn’t help but think the Prince was a little bit of an idiot for passing up his chance to marry Kendo. She was perfect princess material, and if Tetsutetsu were in the Prince’s shoes, he’d marry her in a heartbeat.

  
Wait . . . what?

  
No, he shouldn’t be having those kind of thoughts about her. He’s here for the Prince, not anyone else. But really, when he compared the two, Kendo was better than the Prince in all areas. She was certainly more attractive, in his opinion, and she was so much more humbled. Whereas she understood the rough and daunting life that someone from a lower caste is forced to live, the Prince had never struggled a day in his life. It was a quality that Tetsutetsu found a bit unfair and annoying, but he understood the Prince had never actually asked for all this. It was just given to him.

  
But still, even if Kendo was better looking and sweeter and just more amazing overall, him acting on these newfound feelings was _illegal_. He could be publicly whipped just for having these thoughts. Or worse. “Hey guys, I’m feeling a little unwell. I might just be tired. I’m gonna go up to my room for a bit, talk to you guys later.”  
  


“Bye Tetsu,” Shiozaki said in her usual monotone voice, which Tetsutetsu honestly still hadn’t quite gotten used to yet. He awkwardly waved at her as he started to walk away, and she stared blankly at him.

  
“Bye, Tetsutetsu, I hope you feel better.” Kendo called, and Tetsutetsu beamed at the redheaded girl. He looked over to Monoma, who lifted his hand up in a curt wave, which he returned. He didn’t miss the calculating stare Monoma was directing at him, and he felt a little unnerved by it. Could Monoma tell that he was bluffing when he said he felt unwell? Knowing Monoma, he probably could.

  
Tetsutetsu went straight to his room, burying his face into his clean sheets as he threw himself onto his bed, ignoring the questioning looks he was receiving from his maids. He ignored them, shutting his eyes tightly and willing away the massive headache that was growing in his head.

* * *

“Am I making you uncomfortable? You keep fidgeting.” Katsuki asked, glancing at the green haired boy sitting across from him. Izuku had still yet to touch his food, whereas Katsuki was nearly finished with his plate.

  
“Oh- oh no! I’m not uncomfortable in the least, Your Highness! Should I call you that? Is there any other title I should call you by that would make you more comfortable?” Izuku began, and Katsuki started speaking, only to be cut off by Izuku’s rambling. “Oh, I’m so sorry for assuming. And interrupting! I’m really nervous right now and you’re just so pretty and, oh god, I’ve probably ruined this for myself, haven’t I? Stupid Izuku . . .”

  
Katsuki cleared his throat loudly, causing Izuku to stop talking and look at the blonde with wide, fearful eyes. He muttered out a quiet, “sorry” which Katsuki rolled his eyes at. “Whatever, I can tell it’s the nerves getting to you. And call me Prince Bakugou, will ya?” Izuku nodded his head feverishly, keeping his mouth closed for fear of him beginning to ramble again. “Don’t be nervous, I don’t bite.” Izuku gave him a wobbly smile, and Katsuki smirked. “Sometimes.”

  
Izuku visibly paled, and Katsuki sighed, regretting making the joke. “S-sorry I’m so skittish, I’ve never been on a d-date before . . .” Izuku trailed off, and Katsuki had to admit he wasn’t surprised. The man just seemed too socially awkward to have been in a relationship before. Katsuki was only hoping that Izuku would start feeling more comfortable around him as time went on. “In fact,” Izuku continued, flushing a bit. “I’ve never really had any friends either. Or siblings. God, I sound like such a loner, don’t I?”

  
Katsuki shrugs, knowing the same was true about Eijiro. He had told Katsuki he didn’t have many important people in his life, the exception being his mother. “Well, what about your family or any other important people to you? What are they like?” Katsuki asked in what he hoped was a calm voice. Izuku was already panicking enough, and Katsuki didn’t want to scare him.

  
Izuku brightened up at that, and Katsuki swore there was a noticeable shimmer in his emerald eyes. “Well, yeah! I have my mom, of course, who’s such a sweetheart. She’s always been so strong and tough, and she cares about me so much. Even after dad left,” Katsuki would have to remind himself not to forget that fact, “and we were short on money, and she was, you know, heartbroken, she put on a brave face and took care of me until I was old enough to find work myself.”

  
“It sounds like you two are really close.” Katsuki commented. Izuku spoke of his mother like she was heaven and Earth, and based on the way he smiled wistfully when Katsuki said that, he wasn’t too far off.

  
“She’s the most important person in my life, besides Eri.” Izuku said, and Katsuki looked at him, confused. Eri? Maybe she was a friend of his? Izuku responded to his confused look with an explanation: “Eri’s this little girl that I help feed every now and then. She’s an orphan, so she’s an Eight, but she’s an absolute sweetheart. My guess is she’s eight or nine, not much older, but she’s dealt with things that no one should ever have to go through. She’s tough as nails, for sure. I wonder how she’s doing without me there . . .”

  
Izuku thought back to how he had left Eri in his mother’s care, and he smiled. She’d be just fine. Katsuki was silent for a few minutes, processing. This little girl, Eri, wasn’t even old enough to work. And everyone knows that climbing the castes is technically impossible, so if she’s an Eight now, then she’ll be an Eight for life. Suddenly, he wonders if that’s what happened to Hitoshi Shinso, the only Eight to have _ever_ made it into the Selection at all—not just this one.

  
“Will she be able to get food?” Katsuki asks quietly, after the awkward silence began stretching too far between them. “Without you there, I mean. Is she going to be okay?”

  
Izuku smiled sadly, but he nodded. “I left her with my mother before coming here. She’s staying at my place, in my ‘room’,” Katsuki noticed how he said the word _room_ in an odd way, but didn’t dwell on it, “and my mom will take care of her. She’s going to be okay.”

  
Katsuki sighed in relief. He’d hate to have been the one to take this man away from Eri, probably an only source of comfort in her lonely, dreary life. Katsuki’s a One, and as such he could never understand what it’s like to be an Eight. But he’s no stranger to them either. Most criminals are Eights, because they can’t find work and so the only option left for them is to steal the necessities they need. Katsuki only hopes this sweet little girl that Izuku speaks of doesn’t turn out like that.

  
“Other than your parents, is there anyone here that you’re close to?” Izuku said, snapping Katsuki out of his reverie. Katsuki, of course, thought of Akira, and he was starting to grow closer to Aizawa as well. He wished there were more people he was close to, but he always sucked at making friends, and thus didn’t have many. Akira was basically the only one who tolerated his presence.

  
“Yeah, my maid, Akira, is my closest friend. We’ve known each other most of our lives.” Katsuki said forlornly. He and Akira had finally made up after their argument, but things between the pair were still a little tense. Katsuki was worried about rushing things, and continued to go to Aizawa for advice about his duties or the Selection.

  
Izuku frowned slightly, but Katsuki didn’t catch the action, too lost in his own mind. “You seemed happy at first when you spoke of, but then your expression turned sad. Is everything alright Your Hi—P-prince Bakugou?” Katsuki decided to ignore the way the freckled boy slipped up at the end, and merely sighed.

  
“We had a bit of a falling out. Disagreed on a pretty important matter, so things between us are a little stiff.” Katsuki said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

  
Izuku shifted slightly, before gently placing his hand over top of Katsuki’s comfortingly and smiling sadly at the blonde. The man’s grip on Katsuki’s hand was loose, so he could easily pull away if he wanted to, but instead the blonde only held on tighter. Katsuki sighed, and the two sat in a comfortable silence, abandoning their long forgotten meal in favor of each other’s company.

  
As many things were tumbling through Katsuki’s mind, just being there and sitting next to Izuku, he felt suddenly at peace. The other boy seemed to have such a soothing presence, and Katsuki began studying him now that they were sitting this close.

  
His eyes trailed over pale, freckly skin, and a glowing smile that held so much warmth Katsuki found it nearly impossible someone could be directing it at _him_ of all people. As his crimson eyes met emerald, he swear he could see constellations in Izuku’s eyes from how much they shimmered from little specks of gold. Izuku met Katsuki’s gaze timidly, and smiled shyly.

  
Katsuki leaned forwards ever so slightly, whispering so as not to ruin the heartfelt moment. “Can I kiss you?” When Izuku nodded, Katsuki leaned forwards more, shutting his eyes with a shaky sigh. He hadn’t expected to be kissing anyone this early in the game, minus Mina kissing him on the cheek, but this moment with Izuku just felt so _right._

  
He knew he’d made the right choice, and as their lips met, Katsuki’s chest was filled with nothing but warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooo Katsuki's first kiss! How sweet! I wasn't originally planning for his first kiss in the Selection to even be with Izuku, but I honestly just felt like that was the right time. 
> 
> Anyways, if you guys have anymore date suggestions PLEASE leave a comment, I'm dying over here. Someone gave me a group date suggestion, so I'll be implementing that idea into the next chapter. I think I'm just going to have a giant date with ALL the Selected, because I feel like it'll be more fun that way. Next chapter will basically just be the date, and we'll get to see some fun interactions between the Selected and also some people or groups with Katsuki.
> 
> As always, here's a list of the remaining Selected (I think there's 23 but I'm too lazy to count :P):  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Asui Tsuyu – Four  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four  
> Hatsume Mei – Three  
> Kenranzaki Bibimi – Two
> 
> I'll have the next chapter out Tuesday, cya then :P


	11. Let's Go Shopping!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm slightly upset atm, as I wrote these long-ass, lengthy notes and then ao3 decided to delete all of it *sigh*
> 
> Anyways! This chapter is unintentionally long, so you're welcome. I hadn't intended for it to be, but surprisingly a lot happened.
> 
> I kind of like how it turned out, but there's also areas I could've improved on as well. I'll elaborate more in the end notes.
> 
> Enjoy this 6k+ chapter!

“Oh, hey Deku!” Ochaco called out to Izuku, using a nickname she had made up for him after discovering it was another way his name could be read. Even though it technically meant ‘useless’, Izuku associated the nickname with Eri since that’s what she called him as well, so he honestly didn’t mind. Izuku smiled, coming to sit beside her and the others that were lingering there as well, waiting to hear details about his date.

  
Honestly, Izuku’s heart was still beating wildly from that kiss he had shared with the blonde. He hadn’t been expecting it at all, and he was pretty sure no one else had kissed the Prince yet. He silently debated between telling the others about it, or keeping it to himself so it wouldn’t sound like bragging. He figured his friends wouldn’t think of it that way, so if the topic came up, he’d share this fact with them.

  
“Well, how was the date?” Tsu asked bluntly, and Izuku tried to will away the blush rising in his cheeks as he thought back on the events that had occurred that night.

  
“Aww, you’re blushing!” Ochaco teased, and Izuku, in his embarrassment, turned to bury his head into the shoulder of whoever was closest to him. That being Shoto, who Izuku was lucky to find didn’t seem to mind the close proximity. "Izu, spill. What happened?”

  
Izuku groaned, but meekly looked up at his friends. Just a few moments ago, he had felt find about telling them he had kissed Katsuki, but now, he was finally realizing that _he kissed Katsuki._ “Well,” Izuku began sheepishly, curling in on himself as he shifted away from Shoto. He was sure he was imagining the way Shoto’s expression turned a little crestfallen when he moved off of the heterochromatic boy’s shoulder. “We may or may not have...kissed?”

  
Ochaco’s incessantly loud squealing caused everyone to turn their head’s in their direction to see what all the commotion was about. Izuku covered his ears, blushing redder than a strawberry, he was sure. “Ochaco, be quiet!” He shushed nervously, smiling awkwardly at the questioning gazes of the other Selected.  
  


“What was that shriek for?” Tamaki muttered quietly, and a few others murmured their confusion as well. Ochaco was just smiling and laughing awkwardly, a little embarrassed about her excitement.

  
“Oh, uh, sorry guys. Got a little excited there for Deku.” Izuku hurriedly shushed her, but it was too late. Everyone’s eyes narrowed as they turned to look at Izuku, who was a blushing, stuttering mess. Shoto picked up on this, and calmly explained Ochaco’s statement. Which honestly, Izuku wished he hadn’t.

  
“Midoriya kissed the Prince on their date,” Shoto said in a monotone voice, and the room erupted into shouts of both jealousy and congratulations. Izuku groaned, curling into the fetal position on the couch as everyone swarmed him, attacking him with an onslaught of overly personal questions. Shoto looked at the crowd in bewilderment, obviously not having expected this response.

  
Tenya stood up and tried to yell for everyone to move away, before the opening and closing of a door drew everyone’s attention away from Izuku and to Aizawa, who was standing in the doorway with an exasperated expression. Izuku looked up curiously, noticing Shinso standing behind the older man, an amused smirk adorning his features as he peeked through the doors at the rest of the Selected.

  
“The hell is going on?” Aizawa asked in a bored tone, and Shinso stepped forwards to explain.

  
“This happens after every date. It’s kinda normal at this point.” He said, in the same bored tone. Seeing them stand side-by-side, it was uncanny how similar they looked.

  
Aizawa sighs. “You guys are annoying. Stop attacking the short kid (“I am not!” Izuku cried out indignantly, to which he was ignored) and shut up.” With that said, Aizawa left the parlor and slammed the door behind him, while Shinso remained inside. The violet-haired boy waited by the door until the crowds dissipated, then went to sit with the group consisting of Eijiro, Mina, Hanta, and Denki. He took an ungraceful seat beside the smiling blonde, who somehow beamed even brighter at the new addition to their conversation. Shinso merely huffed, but he didn’t move nonetheless.

  
Izuku turned back to the others, the blushing slowly fading from his cheeks. “You look like Christmas threw up on you.” Tsu said bluntly, causing Ochaco to bark out a laugh. Even Shoto smirked, and Tenya attempted to suppress his laughter. Izuku whined and pouted, refuting the statement, to which he was met with more laughter.

  
“You guys are meeean!” Izuku said, crossing his arms and huffing in mock offense.

  
“But you’re just so easy to tease, Izu!” Ochaco said, and Izuku glared weakly at her, to which she giggled. “Fine, fine, I’ll stop. Can’t make any promises about the others, though.”

  
Izuku threw his head into his hands with a loud groan.

* * *

The next morning, breakfast remained lively. Afterwards, the Selected rushed to their parlor, racing to get a seat near the fireplace first. It was nearing December already and everyone could tell by the slight chill in the air. If they started collectively dressing warmer, or huddling closer together in their groups while talking in the parlor, no one said anything.

  
As usual, Denki used his small size to his advantage when squirming his way through the throng of Selected, taking a ginger seat by the fire and waiting for his friends to join. A collective groan ran through the room, and the distinct sound of chuckling was heard from the corner. Momo glanced over and noticed the Queen sitting there, reading a book as she sometimes would do.

  
She looked up from her book, scanning the room briefly. Izuku beamed at her and waved, and she returned the smile before returning to her book. Shoto watched the exchange passively, mildly curious about when Izuku and the Queen had grown close. He wanted to question the green-haired boy about it, but didn’t really want the others listening in, so he pulled Izuku off to the side to ask him about the matter discreetly.

  
“What’s up with you and the Queen?” Shoto asked quietly, his expression not betraying any of his thoughts.

  
Izuku wasn’t entirely sure if his mom and the Queen’s past was meant to be kept a secret or not. Did them being close technically give him a leg up in the Selection? But Shoto was often indifferent on most matters, he wouldn’t care either way, would he? “Well, I’m not really sure if I’m supposed to be telling this to other people or not, so let’s keep this between us for now, okay?” Shoto nodded wordlessly, and Izuku sighed before continuing. “Well, the Queen told me a little bit ago that her and my mom used to be really close friends. I suppose because of that I’m closer to her than the rest of the Selected.”

  
Shoto hummed in acknowledgement. He understood why Izuku might want this to be kept private, since some of the Selected might be a little jealous of the fact. “Hey, Todoroki, since you asked me something, can I ask you about another matter?” Shoto nodded, and Izuku smiled softly. “Well, um, do you even want to be here?”

  
Of course, the honest answer to that would be no, but should he tell the truth about this? It was Izuku after all, and Shoto felt closer to him than anyone else. Not just in this palace, but at all. Maybe Izuku was someone he could trust and confide in. Shoto wasn’t used to the feeling of trusting someone else, but he understood that Izuku hid no malicious intentions towards Shoto. He was simply a great friend. “No.” Shoto said, deciding he’d go into detail if Izuku asked.

  
“Oh.” Izuku muttered. He already knew that was the truth, but he hadn’t really been expecting Shoto to admit it so easily. “Then why are you here?” It couldn’t be for the money, he was rich beyond belief. His family made more money in one month that Izuku’s did in a _year._ But Shoto wasn’t very motivated to win either, so Izuku doubted he was after the crown. Could it be the publicity? Maybe this could help him get better connections or a higher paying job or something.

  
“My father forced me to enter. He didn’t really let me have a say in the matter.” Shoto explained briefly, waiting for further questions. He would only offer the bare necessities in terms of details, but Izuku was a curious person by nature. He would surely have more questions to ask.

  
“What does your father get out of you being here? Does _he_ want you to get the crown but you don’t? Or is it merely for publicity for your family?” Izuku asked, and Shoto thought it over. It honestly could go either way, although Shoto doubted his father would be pleased if he didn’t win. Enji was after the crown for sure, but Shoto suspected he wouldn’t mind the other outcome all that much.

  
“The crown. But I have no intentions to win.” Shoto assured Izuku. “I just want to stay as long as I can so I don’t have to go back home and face father.”

  
Izuku narrowed his eyes, frowning slightly. “Why don’t you want to see him? What would he do if you were to lose?” Shoto didn’t want to answer that honestly. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep up this interrogation without revealing some private information about his past. But this is what trust is about, right? And he trusted Izuku, enough to tell him the truth.

  
“I don’t want to see him because he’s an asshole. And he’d probably beat and yell at me.” Izuku’s eyes widened considerably when Shoto casually mentioned the fact that his own father would _beat him_ if he lost.

  
Izuku remained silent for a moment, before coming to his senses and whispering, “Does he do that often?” Shoto didn’t miss the way Izuku’s emerald eyes flickered to the burn scar over his left eye.

  
“He does. But it’s nothing to worry about, Midoriya. I can handle myself.” Shoto attempted to comfort the green-haired boy, but he still looked worried as hell. “And I saw you look, but no. He didn’t give me my scar. That was my mother.”

  
“W- _What_?!” Izuku whisper-shouted, leaning closer to Shoto without realizing. His fingers automatically lifted up to ghost the edges of Shoto’s scar, but Shoto didn’t move away. Instead, he found himself leaning into the soft touch on instinct. “Why would she do something like that?”

  
Shoto sighed. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to open up about his past, but if not now then when would he ever? “My father forced my mother into a marriage in order to produce an adequate heir for his corporation. Touya was far too reckless, Natsuo was too immature, and Fuyumi couldn’t take over because she’s female, and therefore inferior in my father’s eyes. When my mother had me, my father decided that I would work fine as his heir, and he began training me. When I answered a question wrong, or slacked off, he would hit me to try and get me to focus.

  
“He neglected my siblings, and refused to let me be anywhere near them. My eldest brother Touya ran away from home, and I haven’t seen him since. Honestly, I just wish I could have gone with him. Instead, I was stuck with father who only grew more aggressive after Touya’s disappearance. He and mother would fight almost every night, and I’m not sure when exactly it started, but he began hitting her. She already hated him, but she grew to _loathe_ him, and as I grew up, I reminded her of him. My left side, at least.

  
“One night I heard her on the phone, talking to someone about _me_. About how my left side was unbearable for her to gaze upon, because it reminded her too much of _him._ When she found me eavesdropping, a manic look crossed her face as she grabbed the kettle off the stove and poured boiling hot water down the left side of my face. Afterwards, she realized what she had done and attempted to treat the burn with ice, which ultimately made it worse, and led to the scarring. After I was patched up, father sent mother away to stay in a mental institution for harming me. I haven’t spoken to her since.”

  
Even though everyone else continued to talk, as if nothing was wrong—at least to them nothing _was_ —but Izuku remained deathly silent as he processed everything Shoto had told him. He had never heard Shoto say so _much,_ especially all at once. Izuku mindlessly reached out for Shoto’s hand, gripping it tightly. Shoto squeezed Izuku’s hand, comforted solely by the gesture.

  
“That’s horrible,” Izuku whispered, at a loss for words. It _was_ horrible, but it went so much deeper than just that. And Shoto’s been suffering through this his whole life.

  
“Sorry,” Shoto muttered, and Izuku looked up in alarm and confusion. What was he apologizing for? “That must have been a lot.”

  
Izuku shook his head furiously. “I’m glad you told me, Todoroki—err, can I call you Shoto?” He asked Shoto, who merely nodded, smiling slightly.

  
“Can I call you Izuku then?” Shoto asked, and Izuku nodded, matching Shoto’s smile with a bright one of his own. “Thanks for listening to me, Izuku. It feels nice to finally get all that off my chest.”

  
Impossibly, Izuku’s smile only seemed to brighten as he gazed comfortingly at the dual-haired boy beside him. If their hands were still tightly clasped in one another’s, neither commented nor made any move to break that hold. “Like I said before, Shoto, I’m glad that you told me. You shouldn’t have to deal with that alone.”

  
“I’ve never told anyone before you.” Shoto admitted, and Izuku was honestly a little unsurprised. Shoto always seemed kind of like the secretive, mysterious type, and based on his past, Izuku doubted he had many friends—if any—while growing up. “For some reason, I just feel like I can trust you.”

  
Shoto swore he was melting due to the soft look that Izuku was gazing at him with. No one’s ever looked at him with that much pure compassion. Except . . . his mother. “I’m happy that you feel that way, Shoto.” Izuku said softly, and they sat in a companionable silence, ignorant of the clamor of the Selected around them.

  
The peaceful moment was only broken by the banging of the door as a figure stepped inside the parlor. Izuku jumped, his hand falling unintentionally out of Shoto’s grip as he turned towards the door, watching the Prince march in with his head held high. The Queen looked up from her book, sending her son an unamused glare as she waited for him to speak up and stop disrupting her reading.

  
“I have an announcement, and I’ve decided to come speak with you all in person to deliver it. There’s an upcoming group date, _tonight,_ so be prepared for that. Dress in something warm, as we’re going to a nearby town to go shopping.” Katsuki said, and some excited murmurs passed over the room before the blonde continued. “You will each be given 11,000¥ to spend, so use it wisely. You guys will be splitting up into groups to walk around town with, and you can find and approach me at any time you want. There is a catch to this; that being that there will be two eliminations by the end of the evening, possibly more if I find more than two people to be inadequate to be my husband or wife. Also, may I remind you, lunch is in half an hour, so don’t forget to be _punctual._ We’ll leave for town immediately after dinner, so change before then. That’s all.”  
  


And with that said, Katsuki was gone.

* * *

Hanta was hyped for the upcoming date. Not only was it a chance for him to get some time to talk to the Prince, but he could also casually hang out with his friends in a less formal setting. He dressed as comfortably as he could, not exactly wanting to stick out like a sore thumb in the crowds.

  
Most of his friends seemed to share the same sentiments, as they were dressed in something warm but casual, much less dressy than what they usually wore. Mina and Kyoka had even managed to snag some pants, and Hanta noticed they weren’t the only ones either. Very few women decided to wear a dress for this outing, and Hanta couldn’t say he blamed them. He wouldn’t want to be walking around in 30 degree weather in a _dress_ of all things either.  
  


Unsurprisingly to Hanta, Denki was the last person to arrive. He ran in the door, red-faced and breathing heavy, seemingly having ran the way here. He was nearly always late for these kinds of things, and Hanta found the fact to be kind of amusing. Denki shot a glare at him and the others, who were also openly laughing at his misfortune, and walked over to join them.

  
The Selected had already situated themselves into groups, and Hanta’s group consisted of him, Mina, Denki, Eijiro, Hitoshi, and Fumikage. Ordinarily, Kyoka would have been joining them, but Momo decidedly joined Shoto’s group and Kyoka tagged along.

  
After Denki’s late arrival, they finally left, each group climbing into a carriage of their own. By some stroke of luck, Katsuki climbed into the group containing Hanta’s group at random. The blonde sat next to Eijiro and across from Denki, the latter smiling flirtatiously across at him. Katsuki merely rolled his eyes as the carriage door shut, but the corners of his lips lifted up nonetheless.

  
“Are you excited, Prince Bakugou?” Mina spoke up, breaking the increasingly uncomfortable silence that was filling the carriage. “’Cause I sure am. I can’t usually afford to go on shopping trips like this, y’know?”

  
Some of the other members in the carriage nodded in understanding. Katsuki merely shrugged, gazing mindlessly out the window to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze. “I don’t really get out much, so I’ve only done something like this a couple times before.” He admitted, and Mina frowned. “Usually on these kind of excursions, for me, the intent is not for them to be fun. Most likely educational or something of the like.”

  
“That sounds so boring though.” Denki said, a frown forming on his lips as well to match Mina’s expression. 

  
Katsuki continued gazing out the window, his expression blank. “No one ever said the life of royalty was meant to be fun.” The blonde said harshly, and everyone remained silent. “Don’t go quiet on me like that. You need to hear this. It’s possible one of you could win, and that just means this is what life will be like for you, too. If you can’t handle it, then you shouldn’t be here.”

  
His words were harsh, but they rang true. It made some of them really think about it, and about being here. What it would mean for them if they won, and what kind of responsibilities would entail. “It’s a lot of pressure, I’m guessing. And probably terrifying, too. But, if you care about someone enough, you’re willing to give up anything for them, right?” Eijiro said softly, and Katsuki gazed at the redhead, his expression unreadable.

  
“That’s pretty much what I’m looking for.” Katsuki said, meeting Eijiro’s eyes as they bored into him. “Someone who’s willing to give up their life to ensure my happiness, and someone I’d be willing to do the same for as well. Only time will tell if that kind of person even exists or not.”

  
“I think you’ll be surprised to find that they definitely do.” Eijiro retorted with unwavering confidence. Before Katsuki could continue their discussion, the driver turned around to tell them they were almost there.

  
“So,” Denki said, attempting to break the awkward silence. “What do you guys want to shop for?”

* * *

Katsuki had stayed with that group for some time, but eventually wandered off, deciding he should probably spend some time with the others before they had to return home. He was meant to be making two eliminations by the end of this date, under Akira’s suggestion, and he wasn’t sure if he was honestly going to be able to do that.

  
The last group he’d been with had all been so amazing. They’d been kind of loud, but their company was enjoyable to him to say the least, despite how much he had acted like he was having a bad time.

  
He certainly hadn’t forgotten what they had discussed on the carriage ride here. Eijiro’s words rung through his head, _“I think you’ll be surprised to find that they definitely do.”_ What did that _mean?_ Was he saying that he felt that way for Katsuki? Or that he had the capacity to?

  
Katsuki shook his head to clear his mind as he approached another group. He was certainly overthinking Eijiro’s statement, that’s all. The new group he was walking towards consisted of Shoto, Momo, Kyoka, Izuku, Mei, Tenya, Tsuyu ( _Tsu_ , he mentally corrected himself) and Ochaco.

  
“Mind if I join?” Katsuki asked, casually walking over to the eight of them. They all frantically shook their heads, and Katsuki chuckled as he fell into step beside Ochaco. “Have you all found anything yet?”

  
They all muttered out a “no” or some variation, and Katsuki hummed in response. “Most of us don’t really know our way around, since we’ve never been here before.” Izuku—who was hovering worryingly close to Shoto as the pair walked side-by-side—said, gazing at Katsuki with pleading emerald eyes. “Do you think you could help us out a bit?”

  
“Well, what are you looking for?” Katsuki asked, and most of the group remained silent. Tsu was the first to speak up, looking contemplative.

  
“I think I might buy a gift for a friend of mine back home. Jewelry, maybe. She always seemed to like that kind of thing.” Tsu explained, and Katsuki led them down the winding streets in the direction of what he hoped was some sort of jeweler.

  
“Is there any bakeries nearby? Maybe I’ll try out some local delicacies.” Ochaco commented, and Katsuki thought about where there might be one near to where they were.

  
“Oh, yes, food. What about soba?” Shoto said mindlessly, and Izuku snorted.

  
“We just had dinner, Shoto!” Izuku protested, giggling, and Shoto shrugged.

  
“There’s no such thing as a bad time for soba.” Shoto replied, and Izuku sighed, rolling his eyes good-naturedly at the dual-haired boy’s antics. “I suppose you would say the same about katsudon, though, wouldn’t you?” He teased, and Izuku stuck his tongue out in retaliation, making Shoto chuckle warmly.

  
“Just because it’s true doesn’t mean you have to say it.” Izuku protested, only making Shoto laugh more, which the green-haired boy seemed positively affronted by. “Don’t you laugh at me!”

  
Katsuki watched the exchange from the corner of his eye, fighting a smile. He was glad the members of the Selected were growing close to each other, it hopefully meant that there was less in-fighting. “Are you two done with your bickering?” Katsuki asked, trying to keep the smile off his lips.

  
Izuku flushes, stuttering out a hasty apology, whereas Shoto merely shrugs, his expression neutral yet again as he looked at Katsuki. The dual-haired boy certainly seemed closer to Izuku than he was to Katsuki by far, and it even seemed the feeling went both ways. After Izuku and Katsuki had shared a kiss, the green-haired boy had been considerably more comfortable around the blonde, but their relationship was nothing in comparison to his with Shoto.

  
Really, Katsuki couldn’t fathom why he was feeling slightly jealous of the two’s relationship. He wanted to be that close with both of them, but had been apparently unsuccessful thus far. But weren’t they supposed to be feeling jealousy over one another? Certainly not the other way around. Perhaps it was Katsuki’s nature to simply be overprotective. He had always felt that way towards Akira, and it was possible he was developing that unhindered protectiveness over some of his suitors as well.

  
He tried to dispel the thoughts as they continued searching for a jeweler of some sort. Shoto swore he smelled soba, but after questioning, none of the locals knew of any places nearby. Following his sense of smell, Shoto led them over a mile away, to a quaint stall selling bowls of soba, which Shoto happily bought a serving of. The rest of the group gaped in shock, and Katsuki would’ve sworn Shoto had the nose of a goddamn _bloodhound_ after that occurrence.

  
Deciding he’d been with that certain group long enough, Katsuki made his way through town alone, wandering in search of another group. He also did a bit of window-shopping, looking for a new knife or something for his mother’s upcoming birthday. Katsuki was a little startled when someone tapped on his shoulder from behind, but he didn’t show it. He was met with cascading pale blue hair and a warm smile. “You lost?” Nejire asked, smile unwavering.

  
Katsuki registered the fact that Mirio and Tamaki were standing behind her, and then refocused his attention on Nejire. “No. I can find my way around town just fine.” Katsuki snapped, but Nejire certainly didn’t seem to mind.

  
“Well, maybe I just find it a little strange when I walk over to see the crowned prince looking at gilded earrings of all things. I didn’t take you for a jewelry kind of person, Your Highness.” Nejire teased, and Katsuki scowled in response. He realized that he had subconsciously begun walking in step beside the blue-haired girl, and Mirio had stepped up to walk on his other side. Tamaki lagged behind a bit, gazing timidly at the ground as he walked.

  
“They’re for the old hag, not me.” Katsuki said, feeling as if an explanation was due. He didn’t want anyone believing that he _was_ out here to by himself a pair of _earrings._ The thought of men wearing jewelry didn’t bother him, but he certainly couldn’t see himself being that kind of guy. “But what if they were for me?” Katsuki decidedly challenged.

  
Nejire smirked. “Well, I’m certain you’d look lovely, Your Highness.” Mirio snickered softly beside him, and Katsuki sent twin glares in both of their directions. 

  
“Anything you losers are looking for?” Katsuki muttered, hoping his cheeks hadn’t turned too red as he shifted his glare to be focused on the ground beneath his feet.

  
For once, Tamaki was the one to speak up, although he did in an admittedly quiet voice. “I was looking for a gift for a friend.” He spoke softly, and Katsuki was barely able to catch what the man said. “And one for you.”

  
Katsuki certainly hadn’t been expecting that response, and he willed away the blush on his cheeks. The Prince or Princess hosting the Selection rarely received gifts from the Selected, but instead gave them out. Then again, the Selected were often far from home and didn’t exactly have anything to offer, but it was sweet that Tamaki was thinking of him in the one time he would have a chance to get Katsuki something.

  
Katsuki couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips, however menacing it may have seemed regardless. “You don’t have to get me anything, you know.” He said, but inside he was hoping Tamaki would. He had received many gifts in the past from his parents, but sometimes Akira would take the time and effort to save up some money to get him a gift, or something else of the like. As nice as the things his parents gave him were, it was always Akira’s thoughtful gifts that he loved the most. He hoped a gift from any of the Selected would feel the same.

  
“But I want to. You’ve done so much for all of us. You deserve for us to return the favor.” Tamaki said gently, finally lifting his head to meet Katsuki’s gaze shyly. Usually, Katsuki would find Tamaki’s timid demeanor to be annoying, but now he somehow found it cute. For some odd reason, it made him think of Izuku, and how nervous he had been on their date.

  
“Thank you,” Katsuki said awkwardly, not used to thanking people. Trying to act _nice_ and _not_ scare away anyone that might potentially love and care about him was hard, but he was trying, at least. That’s all anyone could ask for, right?

Katsuki walked with that group a little longer, and in that time Tamaki remained silent as he was before. Mirio and Nejire kept him entertained with their jovial chatter, but eventually Katsuki decided it was best for him to go. He estimated there were two or three groups left, and he wanted to be able to spend time with all of them.

  
The next group he happened across consisted of Neito, Bibimi—who he hated to admit he was slightly displeased to see—Tetsutetsu, and Shiozaki. He pointedly avoided contact with Bibimi, instead walking besides Tetsutetsu and Shiozaki. If Yuga hadn’t attempted to deceive him on the last group date, Bibimi probably would have been the one to be sent home, and that put her on already thin ice for this date. Unless someone manages to seriously fuck it up for themselves, her chances of staying are slim.

  
“Anything in particular you all are looking for?” Katsuki asked, sounding like a broken record from how often he had been asking the separate groups a question similar to that.

  
Surprisingly enough, Shiozaki spoke up with a definitive answer. “I want a necklace. Specifically that of which adorned with a cross. I of course already own one, but buying a newer and more durable garment couldn’t hurt.” It was then that Katsuki noticed the rusted chain around her neck. The green-haired girl was covering the necklace with a cream colored scarf, but the blonde figured that chain was what she was referring to.

  
“I’m not really sure where we’ll be able to find that, but I guess the jeweler would be the best place to start.” Katsuki said, walking in the same direction he had been leading Tsu’s group earlier. “Is there anything else you guys want?”

  
The rest of the members there shook their heads no, instead opting to gaze through the windows of shops as they passed, in hopes they’d spy something of interest. When they arrived at their destination, it seemed another group had found their way there as well. In fact, it was the group Katsuki had most recently left.

  
Inside the jeweler, looking at a simplistic pair of silver earrings, was Nejire, accompanied by Mirio and Tamaki. The latter stood in the corner awkwardly, turned towards the wall, and Mirio hovered slightly behind Nejire, offering his opinion to the girl.

  
“Do I have to be here?” Katsuki heard Tamaki mutter as he entered the shop, the rest of the group trailing behind him.

  
“Aw, we haven’t been here that long, Tama!” Nejire protested, gazing back at the pair of earrings. “Ooh, those are cute!”

  
“A bit boring, don’t you think?” Bibimi contradicted, gazing haplessly at the silver earrings. Nejire visibly clenched her jaw, but forced a smile nonetheless.

  
“Well, that’s exactly what I’m going for. I don’t really want anything too flashy.” She spat through her ground teeth, but Bibimi remained completely oblivious to the seething girl standing near to her.

  
“You should go for something more dramatic, you need all the help you can get really.” She said flippantly, clearly not realizing how rude she was being to Nejire. And if looks could kill, Nejire certainly would have murdered Bibimi with her glare right now.

  
“The earrings look amazing, Hado!” Mirio commented, attempting to lighten the mood. He wordlessly asked the jeweler if he could hold them, and gingerly took them from the older man’s hands. “Why don’t you try them on before making any decisions?”

  
Nejire nodded, smiling—this time a lot more genuinely—at the blonde beside her before putting the earrings on. Personally, she liked them, but because her hair was so long and thick, it was difficult to notice them. She took the off with a disappointed frown, handing them back. “Do you have anything bigger, maybe?” She asked, and Shiozaki took that moment to speak up.

  
“Do you, by any chance, sell any simplistic necklaces with a silver cross on the end? Nothing over-the-top, just a chain and the cross on the end will do. Something long-lasting.” Shiozaki explained, and the man sat in thought for a moment.

  
“I think we just might. If not, I can have something custom made for you by the end of the week. Let me go check first.” He disappeared behind the counter and returned with a set of large silver earrings and a noticeable lack of a necklace. “I’m sorry Miss, but it seems we don’t exactly have what you’re looking for. If you come back Friday, I can have something made to your liking. You can pay now, if you’d prefer.”

  
Shiozaki looked to Katsuki for approval, and he discreetly nodded his head. She’d most likely need to be accompanied by someone else, but she could return for a necklace. It’s not like the trip would take long, regardless. She turned back to the man, who had handed the earrings over to Nejire by now. The blue haired girl loved them, and was pulling out the cash needed to pay for them. “I’ll be paying now. I’ll be back at six p.m. on Friday, and I hope there will be no delay. I have somewhere I need to be strictly at eight, and I presume I’ll need at least half an hour for preparation.”

  
The man nodded, collecting her payment as well and sending them off with a wave. The two groups separated without so much as a word, and Katsuki remained in front of the jewelers, sighing. If his calculations were correct, there were only two of the Selected that he hadn’t met up with yet, that being Camie and Inasa. The pair must have wandered off together, meaning he’d have to go searching if he wanted to find them before they had to return.

  
Turning around, Katsuki steeled himself and started searching.

* * *

After wandering the streets for a good twenty minutes, Katsuki finally stumbled upon Camie and Inasa, who had met up with Izuku’s group by chance. It looked like they had combined into one large group, and Katsuki sauntered over to them yet again with a scowl on his lips. He noticed that Ochaco was eating from a bento box and Tsu was holding a velvet case that presumably held some form of jewelry inside.

  
“Oh! You’re back, Prince Bakugou!” Izuku said, a smile gracing his features. “Have you had a pleasant evening thus far?”

  
“I enjoy everyone’s company—for the most part, at least—but it’s been a lot of walking. Getting a little burnt out at this point.” He said harshly, gently rubbing his temple. He was being completely honest when saying that, and he had spent maybe half his time out here just searching for groups to mingle with, even though he had told _them_ to come to _him_ instead.

  
“We’ll be returning soon, I believe.” Shoto spoke up, and for some reason Inasa glared harshly at the dual-haired boy. “Why are you giving me that look?”

  
Inasa looked away, a scowl on his face. Katsuki silently wondered what had transpired between the two, but Shoto seemed just as confused as the blonde. “You’re just like your father.” Inasa muttered, and although he surely wasn’t meant to hear it, Shoto did. The heterochromatic man’s face noticeably hardened.

  
“Camie!” An exuberant voice yelled, breaking the tension. Katsuki sighed when he turned and saw a vibrant head of yellow hair running towards them at a speed that certainly wasn’t safe. Denki hugged her tightly, and she laughed and smiled before returning the hug joyously.

  
“Oh, hey Denks! How you been?” She asked enthusiastically, and Katsuki noticed the rest of Denki’s group trudging after the blonde solemnly.

  
“Kaminari, calm _down._ You can’t start yelling that loudly this late at night, especially not in the center of town.” Shinso scolded halfheartedly, and Denki pouted, the sight seeming to melt Shinso’s resolve considerably. “Just shut up, will you?”  
“I didn’t say anything this time!”

  
Shinso decidedly ignored Denki’s noisy attempts of protest, instead waving at the other two groups that had clashed with. “Hi.” He said tiredly, and Izuku glanced worriedly at the noticeably dark bags under his eyes.

  
“You look like you’re on the verge of passing out.” Tsu pointed out, and Shinso merely shrugged.

  
“Maybe I am.” He said ominously, and Denki snorted.

  
“What a mad banquet of darkness this is.” Fumikage said mysteriously, suddenly appearing from up behind Shinso. The violet-haired boy wasn’t startled in the least, but Denki jumped nearly ten feet in the air with an undignified yelp before cackling with laughter.

  
“Man, you can’t pull that shit on me!” He said teasingly, his laughter slowly dying down.

  
“Are you sure you wanna be cursing in front of the Prince, dude?” Hanta asked, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. Denki stuck his tongue out at him, retorting back.

  
“He calls Eiji ‘ _Shitty Hair_ ’, I don’t think he has any qualms against cursing, bro.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes at their antics, but he knew he was enjoying himself. The only issue was who he was going to eliminate. Bibimi was a given, and he had pretty much decided on her since before the date had even began, but he promised two eliminations. Who else was he going to dismiss?

  
He glanced around at the candidates surrounding him, and he suddenly decided on who he felt the least compatible with. Unfortunately for her, this would be her last day in the palace.

* * *

“I hope you all had a good evening.” Katsuki began. They had just returned to the palace, and everyone was seated in the Selected’s parlor, waiting for the elimination to proceed. They knew it was coming, and everyone was silently praying and hoping it wasn’t them. “I certainly did, despite the fact I never ended up purchasing anything. But that’s not the reason we’re all here, and you all know this. It’s time for tonight’s double elimination.

  
“Bibimi Kenranzaki, Tsuyu Asui, thank you for your efforts, but your time in the palace is hereby eradicated.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hadn't been planning a double elimination, as Katsuki was only meant to "make space" for the new guests that would soon be arriving, as the Queen put it. But when I got the suggestion for this shopping date in the comments, I decided it would be a perfect time for a few eliminations, since ALL of the Selected would be there.
> 
> For anyone who's upset about Tsu's elimination, I'm sorry. It was down between either her or Tokoyami, and personally I don't like Tsu's character all that much, so I decidedly eliminated her. Anyways, since Bibimi and Tsu are gone, here's a list of the remaining 21 Selected as well as their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four  
> Hatsume Mei – Three
> 
> Also, Todoroki finally revealed his past to Izuku, which I didn't really decide to do in this chapter until Todo was in the middle of his spiel. His explanation was a little too lengthy for my liking, but oh well. Beggars can't be choosers.
> 
> I kinda like this chapter, but I also feel like Katsuki's interactions with the Selected were a little lackluster. Sorry about that, but I was definitely trying.
> 
> I'll have a new chapter out this Friday, as always. It'll probably be two one-on-one dates OR a one-on-one date and a group date. I don't have any upcoming drama planned until the guests from Akuyaku arrive, although I think in the same chapter that I introduce them, I'll also do the Report scene. Or I may dedicate an entire chapter to that, I haven't decided yet :P
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, I'll have the next dates out soon, as promised. Cya then ;-;


	12. Three Cheers for Hitoshi Shinso

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this chapter several days ago, but I'm sticking to the schedule because I might need some extra time to write the next chapter. There's actually a lot going on.
> 
> Anyways, there are TWO dates in this, and I apologize in advance for what happens on one of the dates, but it's honestly not that bad, so dw :3
> 
> Enjoy!

“I heard from a little birdie that you found the palace to be kinda confining.” Katsuki said, leading Hitoshi outside for their date.

  
Hitoshi snorted. “I’m telling Aizawa you called him a ‘little birdie’.” He teased, and Katsuki elbowed his ribs in retaliation. He then caught sight of the carriage set up, and furrowed his brows in confusion. “Oh? What’s all this about?”

  
“We’re going back into town for our date. Whatever you wanna do.” Katsuki said firmly, opening the carriage door for Hitoshi, the gesture earning him an eye roll as the taller man clambered inside. Katsuki soon followed after, and they were off.

  
“Thanks.” Hitoshi muttered. “For taking my feelings into consideration when deciding this date. Hopefully Aizawa didn’t go into details when he mentioned my claustrophobia?”

  
Katsuki shook his head. “No, he didn’t. Just told me that you considered the palace to be a little suffocating and that it was a good idea to get you out for our date.” He explained, and Hitoshi seemingly sighed in relief.

  
“We’re here!” The driver yelled back at them, and Katsuki murmured his gratitude. Hitoshi opened the door for the blonde this time around, which Katsuki huffed at but he stepped outside nonetheless. “I’ll be back in two hours to pick you up, Your Highness.”

  
And then the carriage was moving away, and Katsuki was left alone with Hitoshi in the middle of town for the next two hours. It was still fairly early in the day, and everything was still open. Katsuki turned to Hitoshi, silently asking where he wanted to go.

  
“Hey, let’s go grab some food.” Hitoshi said, even though they had _just_ eaten lunch. But the blonde followed nonetheless, albeit a little confused.

  
“Oi, didn’t we just eat?” Katsuki questioned, as Hitoshi got in a line at a stall selling different kinds of ramen.

  
“The food isn’t for me, dipshit.” Hitoshi replied, voice unwavering as he ordered four large bowls to go. He took two in his each of his hands, and waited for Katsuki to grab the other two, which he did after a moment of hesitation.

  
“Who are they for, then if not for us?” Katsuki asked, and Hitoshi scoffed.

  
“You’re kind of dense, you know that? We’re going to feed the Eights that live around here. I can guarantee they certainly haven’t had lunch yet today. Let’s hand out what we have for now, and then we’ll go back and get more, then return.” Katsuki scowled, but he continued trailing Hitoshi as they walked towards the dirtier and less crowded sectors of the town.

  
The blonde checked his surroundings warily, and flinched when a grimy hand tightly gripped his wrist. “Hey now, aren’t you royalty? What’s a pretty penny like you doin’ around these parts?” He asked, baring his teeth at Katsuki, who glared in return.

  
Hitoshi was infinitely more composed than the blonde, and simply confronted the man. “We’re just trying to help dude, lay off. Here, take some food. I know you need it.” He held out one of the ramen bowls, which the man took hesitantly, looking at Hitoshi with a flicker of recognition in his dull eyes.

  
“Hey, you’re in the Selection, right?” He asked, to which Hitoshi nodded, expression remaining neutral. “You’re that Eight that managed to make it in. So, you know what it’s like.” He gestured around them, and Katsuki felt a sick twisting in his gut at the realization that Hitoshi probably did have to live like _this_ for the majority of his life.  
  


“That’s why I’m here, man. Trying to help out in any way I can.” His voice certainly held more emotion than his expression did, and the other man smiled at him.

  
“I’m rooting for you, Shinso Hitoshi. Don’t let us down.” Others who had been listening in shouted their agreement, chanting Hitoshi’s name as he passed, handing out food and leaving with the promise of more. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he thanked them all for their encouragement.

  
“Thanks for the food, Shinso.” A young girl said, running up to wrap her frail arms around his legs. He awkwardly smiled and patted her head, telling her to enjoy the meal.

  
Once they finally left that sector, Hitoshi was grinning broadly, proud of the work he’d done for the time being. “That was a really good thing you did back there.” Katsuki commented, and Hitoshi shrugged. It was clear he had really enjoyed the praise, since he wasn’t accustomed to it.

  
“I only did what I wish someone would have done for me.” He said solemnly, the grin fading slightly. “I only hope it makes a difference.”

  
“It will.” Katsuki promised, and Hitoshi smiled softly.

* * *

Katsuki wasn’t really sure how he had ended up in an alleyway, sitting on the muddy ground and watching as Hitoshi allowed the cats to swallow up his body as they covered him. He seemed to be basking in the attention from the furry creatures, whereas Katsuki had shooed away the animals whenever they got too close. The only animals he was accustomed to being near were horses.

  
“You really should try petting them, its great stress relief.” Hitoshi commented, and Katsuki was amazed at how he _wasn’t_ suffocating with the mound of kittens lying atop his chest. Hitoshi apparently had ears for cats like Shoto had a nose for soba, and was able to hear the kittens’ mewling from a pretty tremendous distance away, guiding the blonde towards the sounds.

  
At first, Katsuki had believed him to be mad, but as soon as his eyes landed on the alleyway filled with at least twenty stray cats, he looked at Hitoshi incredulously. He swore some of the Selected weren’t even _human_ at this point. “I’m good.” Katsuki muttered, huffing and crossing his arms indignantly.

Hitoshi did an imitation of a shrug, but it came out a little lopsided due to his current position. “Sue it yourself.” He continu

ed caressing the cats’ soft fur as he pet each and every one and turn. The sounds of purring filled the empty alley, and the kitten’s all seemed to cling to Hitoshi like he was their lifeline. The blonde supposed they didn’t get much attention outside of this.

  
“You know, it’s nearing the time for us to get back.” Katsuki pointed out, worrying his nails as he fretted about how far they were from where they were meant to meet to get in the carriage. It would be at least a half hour walk, if not more. They were certain to be tardy in their arrival.

  
“Chill dude, it’s gonna be okay. You have a chance to relax for once, take it.” Katsuki hated to admit it, but Hitoshi was right. So the blonde laid his head back, ignoring the fact that the wall behind his head was abnormally sticky. When a cat nudged their tiny nose against his trousers, he didn’t shoo them away, and instead gently pat its head, combing his fingers through the soft fur.

  
Once again, the purple-haired boy had been right. The feeling was oddly relieving, and as he continued petting the tabby cat in front of him, more flocked to his side, demanding to be pet as well by their incessant mewling. Katsuki smiled softly, petting the growing number of cats that surrounded him. Hitoshi hummed a little, reminding the blonde of his presence.

  
Katsuki scowled, noticing Hitoshi staring at him calculatingly. “What is it?” He asked sharply, his hands not stopping their petting motions, although they had become a bit tenser.

  
“Oh, nothing.” Hitoshi muttered, smirking. “You’re right. I think it’s time we head back.” Katsuki huffed, standing off and attempting to brush the mud off of his pants. “It’s not use, Your Highness. You’re not gonna be able to get it off.”

  
The blonde ignored his current companion, opting instead to stride confidently in the direction he believed they had come from. When he noticed the lack of footsteps following in his wake, he turned to glare at Hitoshi, who met his look with a bored stare.

“Well? Are you coming?” Katsuki snapped impatiently, and Hitoshi pointed to Katsuki’s left.

  
“It’s that way.”

* * *

“Yay, ‘Toshi! You’re back!” Denki called out, and Hitoshi sighed, sitting next to the obnoxious blonde.

  
“Yeah.” Was all he replied with, too tired to bother with long-winded phrases. Denki didn’t seem to mind, as he had plenty enough energy for the both of them.

  
“How did the date go? Did you have fun? What did you guys do?” Denki spouted at him, and Hitoshi hesitated, trying to comprehend everything Denki had asked.

  
“It was nice. Not necessarily fun, but it wasn’t bad. We just went out to town. Fed the homeless, played with some cats.” Hitoshi said in a bored tone, and Denki’s eyes lit up at the end.

  
“Aw, I love cats! Lucky! You guys fed the homeless? That’s so generous! I always knew you were really thoughtful, but wow. You’re amazing!” Hitoshi tried not to blush at the statement, knowing that Denki hadn’t meant much by it. He complimented people often, but Hitoshi wasn’t used to receiving them. The praise always made him a little embarrassed, especially when coming from the blonde.

  
“I’m not that great, you know.” Hitoshi contradicted, nervously scratching the back of his neck, but attempting to keep his expression neutral. “If anyone here is amazing, it’s you Kaminari.”

  
Hitoshi hadn’t exactly meant to say that, but that didn’t change the fact that he meant it. He immediately regretted it though, because Denki’s eyes welled up with unshed tears. “H-honestly, I’m not. I’m just a flirt and kind of a dumbass . . .” Denki attempted to laugh it off, but Hitoshi could tell his smile was strained.

  
“You’re not a dumbass Kaminari—”

  
“Call me Denki, please? Everyone else does, and we’re friends too, so, um, I’d like it if you c-called me that instead.” Denki stuttered out, a faint blush rising on his cheeks from embarrassment, Hitoshi presumed it to be from stuttering.

  
“Sure.” He replied nonchalantly, as if he isn’t having the _biggest fucking internal gay panic_ in his _life_. “Denki.”

  
Denki only blushed harder at the sound of his given name, and he smiled sweetly at Hitoshi. It was then that Hitoshi noticed the sprinkling of freckles over Denki’s nose, and honestly when did freckles become so _cute?_

 _  
_Hitoshi’s story was complicated. He couldn’t accept the compensation for his time here, since there was no one at home to receive it anyways. He signed up for the food, and for the crown. After finding out he would become a Three even if he was eliminated, he basically gave up on any efforts he may have had to win. He harbored no feelings for the Prince, and he definitely never expected to develop feelings for anyone _at all._

  
Ever.

  
But then what was this feeling in his chest? Why had he felt so jealous almost a week ago when the exuberant blonde mentioned he had a date with the Prince? Because he sure as hell wasn’t jealous of _Denki_ , but another blonde, perhaps.  
  


As his violet eyes gazed intensely at pure gold, he attempted to squash down any feelings he might be feeling for this boy. Just because he was feeling something _more_ for Denki didn’t give him the right to act on it. He didn’t want to jeopardize Denki’s chances with the Prince, even if it kind of hurt to watch.

  
“You okay, ‘Toshi?” Denki asked, his smile morphing into a frown as he looked at Hitoshi with concern, worrying his lip.

  
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, as usual.” Denki furrowed his eyebrows, his frown deepening, and Hitoshi immediately decided he hated the look on the blonde’s face. “Cheer up Denki, I’m fine. I'm an insomniac, I’m never _not_ tired.”  
  


Denki still seemed a little tense, but his expression lightened as he scooched a little closer to Hitoshi, leaning his weight slightly onto his arm. “Try to sleep, will you? I can wake you up when it’s time for dinner.”

  
Hitoshi nodded, because there was really no way in hell he could refuse the blonde, despite how much he hated to admit the fact to himself. He laid to the side, and dully noted the fact that a thin blanket was being draped over his shoulders and he was being pushed slightly closer to the warm fire. He felt a weight on his side, and knew it must be Denki leaning against him. The thought made him smile, and for once he managed to drift off into a dreamless sleep without any trouble.

* * *

“WAKE UP SLEEPY HEADS!” An obnoxiously loud voice called out, and Denki bolted up from where he was sleeping as if he had been shocked. Hitoshi muttered a little in his sleep, but other than that didn’t move, which Denki merely giggled at. He then directed a half-hearted and slightly sleepy glare at Mina, who he presumed to be the one to wake him up. She smiled devilishly in return, confirming his suspicions.

  
“How dare thou wake me from my slumber.” Denki joked, and Mina obnoxiously gaped at him.

  
“Those were some pretty fancy words, didn’t know you had the mental capacity to say something like that.” She teased, and Denki grabbed his chest in mock offense.

  
“Oh, how you wound me.” He said, falling backwards dramatically with a hand to his forehead. Mina simply giggled at his antics, and Hitoshi cracked his eyes open to glare at the two.

  
“Will you guys shut up?” He said tiredly, shutting his eyes again and mumbling, “’m tryin’ ta sleep.” Mina snorted, then clapped loudly next to Hitoshi’s ear. He groaned and sat up. “Alright, alright, I’m up asshole.”

  
“Good. As much as I hated to interrupt that adorable cuddle pile you two had going on there, dinner started like ten minutes ago. Come _on_.”

  
She grabbed both boys’ wrists and dragged them up off their asses and to the dining hall, plopping down in her seat enthusiastically as Denki trudged solemnly to sit beside Kyoka. “What crawled up your ass and died?” She asked, seeing his heavy footsteps and tired expression.

  
“Your mom.” He retorted, which she rolled her eyes at.

  
“Not funny, didn’t laugh.” She replied in her monotone voice. Denki glared at her, but she didn’t react.

  
“Shaddup, it’s too early in the morning for me to be witty.”

  
“Denki it’s _dinner time._ ” She pointed out, and he shrugged noncommittally. 

  
“And?” Kyoka sighed, and Denki quirked a tired smile, yawning obnoxiously loud. “Where’s Hanta?” He asked mid-yawn, noticing a lack of the brunette at dinner tonight.

  
“So you ask about Sero but not the Prince? I thought the Pomeranian’s lack of appearance would be more noticeable.” She said, and now that she mentioned it, Denki did notice that the blonde wasn’t at his usual seat. “Anyways, Sero left for his date with the Prince nearly three hours ago. You’d know if you hadn’t been using Shinso as a pillow.”

  
Denki blushed in spite of himself. “In my defense, he makes for a _really_ comfortable pillow.” He said jokingly, but then again he _had_ apparently been passed out for over three hours. There had to have been at least _some_ truth to that statement.  
  


“Yeah, whatever you say.” Kyoka retorted sarcastically. “Are you gonna eat or what?”

  
It was then Denki realized he had yet to touch his plate. He smiled at Kyoka in thanks—which she responded to with a nod—and then dug in. As he ate, the blonde silently wondered how Hanta’s date was going.

* * *

“Okay, okay, one more time. I’ll win for sure!”

  
“You haven’t won the past six times we’ve done the course, soy sauce face.” Katsuki said abrasively, to which Hanta merely pouted.

  
“Where’d the nickname ‘soy sauce face’ even _come_ from?” He muttered to himself, before spinning around to face the blonde. “Oh, come on! One more try, I’ve got this one in the bag!” He smiled confidently, hands loosely hanging on his hips.

  
“You said that the last four times we’ve done it.” Katsuki complained, but sighed when he realized Hanta wasn’t going to give up on this. “ _Fine._ But I’m leaving after this, whether you come with me or not.”

  
Hanta smiled and moved back into a starting position, Katsuki slowly following suit. “Ready,” Hanta began, throwing a challenging smirk Katsuki’s way.

  
“Set,” Katsuki continued, meeting the look with one of his own.

  
“Go!” They shouted in unison, taking off on the obstacle course at lightning speed. Most things involving running, jumping, or balance, Katsuki excelled at, where Hanta was most at his element in the air, whether it be a rope course or rock climbing, or something of the like.

  
Hanta wasn’t necessarily _bad_ at hurdles, but he was a little slow on them at his best, whereas Katsuki leaped past them with ease. But then again, he wasn’t really at his best anymore. This was his seventh go at the course, and it was starting to take its toll on him. His arms and legs felt like lead as he ran, weighing him down.

  
So when it came time for the hurdles, he attempted to leap over them like he had done all the previous times, but he apparently didn’t jump quite high enough, because his feet connected with something solid and he tumbled face first into the dirt. Katsuki heard the boy’s strangled yelp as he fell, attempting to break the fall with his arms and only succeeding in hurting his wrist as well.

  
The blonde was at his side in an instant, helping him to his feet as he suppressed his laughter. “Y-you okay?” He said, his laughs barely contained through his tightly pressed lips. Hanta glared at him, cradling his wrist with his uninjured hand. He lightly shoved Katsuki with his shoulder.

  
“Asshole, don’t laugh!” He said, which only made Katsuki break down cackling on the ground. Soon, despite the fact that his head was kinda throbbing and he couldn’t move his wrist without it hurting, Hanta joined the blonde in his laughter.

  
Finally, Katsuki managed to compose himself for the most part, a couple light chuckles slipping out here and there. Hanta went to wipe away some tears that had slipped out with his bad arm, but hissed in pain as he was suddenly reminded that he was injured. All laughing ceased there, and Katsuki looked at him with a hint of concern. “Let’s go to the infirmary and get you patched up, dumbass.” He said, trying to cover the layer of worry edging onto his tone with a cool look of indifference.

  
Hanta smiled slightly, but Katsuki knew it was forced. He grabbed the elbow connected to Hanta’s uninjured hand and dragged him along lightly, leading him to the infirmary where he got patched up. “Only a few cuts and bruises deary, although it looks like your wrist is sprained. Nothing a little TLC can’t fix though! You should be all healed up in only a few weeks.” The lead nurse, Chiyo Shuzenji—also nicknamed ‘Recovery Girl’ by many of the palace staff—told Hanta after giving him a quick checkup.

  
“Thanks, ma’am! Do I need to come back to get it checked up every now and then?” He inquired, to which the woman nodded.

  
“Come at the end of every week, if that works for you. If you feel any extra pain or discomfort, don’t hesitate to come to me. Try not to come here too often though, honey.” She smiled and chuckled to herself, before returning to her work as Hanta and Katsuki got up to leave.

  
Hanta had to wear a brace and a splint for his wrist, which he was a little upset about, but he had enjoyed himself all the same. “Be careful, soy sauce face. Don’t hurt your wrist any more than it already is.” Katsuki said, walking Hanta to his room under the blonde’s offer, which the brunette readily accepted.

  
Hanta smiled and sheepishly scratched at the back of his neck. “I’ll try.” The reply was met with a glare which Hanta laughed off, turning towards Katsuki before heading inside his room. “I had fun tonight, regardless. I hope we can do it again sometime.”

  
He walked inside his room, smiling one last time before softly shutting the door, leaving Katsuki standing out in the hallway, staring blankly where the brunette had been only moments before, smiling softly against his better judgement. “Yeah. Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry Sero. I actually based what happened to him off of something that I once did... although he was a lot less stupid about his accident. Long story short, I tripped over a tennis net while trying to jump over it (which I don't recommend-). Now I have a scar on my hand to remind me of my dumbassery xD
> 
> Shinso with cats? Pure. Also, looks like our soft purple boi is catching some feelings 👀 Okay, so his feelings for Denki weren't supposed to be that blatant, but what can I say? I'm a sucker for Kamishin and I just couldn't resist. I never planned for Shinso to like Bakugou (in THAT way, at least) anyways, so there's no harm ;P
> 
> Next chapter is gonna be pretty hectic. I've already started writing it and I've gotten through only ONE of the many things I want included in the chapter, and I'm pretty sure it's already nearly 3,000 words. Hopefully on Tuesday you guys will get to enjoy a long chapter. There's going to be two dates, and the new guests are arriving. We're going to have Katsuki meet the guests and I kind of want to see the Selected meet them as well, but I'll see if I have time for that.
> 
> Anyways, as always, here's a list of the remaining 21 candidates and their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four  
> Hatsume Mei – Three
> 
> Next Tuesday I'll be posting a new chapter, which I'm hoping will turn out good. Expect fluff and hopefully good drama, but I guess we'll just have to wait and see, so I'll see y'all then :P


	13. A New Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sheesh, this chapter actually took a while to write. But it's probably my longest chapter I've written so far, so you're welcome xD
> 
> While it is pretty lengthy, one of the dates in this chapter is absolute t r a s h i am so sorry. I could not write the character that Katsuki was going on a date with properly to save my life.
> 
> Anyways, minus my major screw up of that one date, enjoy!

“Hanta!” Denki called joyously, but his smile morphed into a gasp as he saw the brunette’s arm caught up in a sling. Hanta smiled warily, waiting for the responses of the other Selected. “What _happened_?”

  
Denki was all over him in a second, wrapping Hanta up in a tight hug, being sure to avoid his splint. Hanta returned the hug half-heartedly with his good arm. “Well, we were doing an obstacle course for our date. I guess I got a little careless.” Denki frowned, furrowing his brows in worry.

  
“Be more careful next time, dumbass.” Mina teased—oddly reminiscent of the Prince’s words to him—but the brunette could see the worry etched into her features.

  
“You act as if I was _trying_ to sprain my wrist.” Hanta joked, to which Mina snorted. The lanky man certainly hadn’t expected anyone to open the door while he was still standing right in front of it, especially so _forcefully._ Thank god for Denki, who managed to catch him before he hit the ground with a loud groan.

  
“I have—oh I’m sorry I didn’t know you were standing there—” the Prince hastily apologized, but Hanta simply waved him off, smiling weakly. It’s not like his back was _killing him_ or anything.

  
“Let me guess,” Tetsutetsu spoke up from across the room. “You have an announcement?”

  
“Naturally,” Katsuki spoke, striding forwards smoothly as if he hadn’t nearly just crushed Hanta with a door. “Sometime tomorrow we will be having three guests arrive. I’m not sure how long they will be here, but it will be for an extended period of time. I expect all of you to treat them with the utmost respect during their stay. They all have free access to this parlor, so don’t be surprised if you find any of them joining you here during your free time.”

  
“Why are they coming here?” Shoto asked, and Katsuki glanced his way before staring at a fixed point on the wall as he spoke.

  
“We’re attempting to negotiate an alliance with Akuyaku, and they’re representing their nation. Any more questions?” Everyone remained silent, and Katsuki smirked. “Good. On another note, December is quickly approaching, and that also means my mother’s birthday will be here soon as well. We’ll be hosting a ball with many foreign guests of high status, so do _not_ make us regret having you all there. Anyone who decidedly makes a fool of themselves—and thereby of the royal family—will be banished from palace grounds _immediately._ Understand?”

The Selected murmured their agreement, and Katsuki nodded in satisfaction before turning on his heel and storming out of the room. He shot Hanta an apologetic look before he left, and slammed the door behind them, leaving the room incased in a tense silence.

* * *

“Did he carry you in his arms to the infirmary?” Denki asked, sighing dreamily at the thought. Hanta merely snorted.

  
“I sprained my wrist, not my fucking ankle.”

  
Currently, he had Denki, Mina, Eijiro and himself holed up in his room. They had come to check if he was okay, and ended up staying to talk and hang out. “You should’ve said you were woozy and that he needed to help you walk or _something_.” Mina teased, and Hanta stuck his tongue out at her.

  
“Sorry, I was too busy being _in pain_ to think of that.” The group’s laughter was cut off by the sound of a sharp knock at the door. Hanta looked on in confusion, wondering who it could be. Based on his friends’ quizzical expressions, they were having similar thoughts. “Um, come in.” He called out, and the door cracked open slightly as the Prince— _the fucking Prince himself holy fuck_ —walked in.

  
“Oh, I didn’t know you losers would be here too. I can come back another time.” He began backtracking, and finally Hanta was spurred into action as he saw the door being swung shut.

  
“No! Wait!” He called, flailing his arms, and then wincing in pain as he was reminded of his wrist. Katsuki popped the door back open, peeking his head in and raising a singular brow in question. “You can, um, come in.”

  
Katsuki narrowed his eyes, but walked in, sitting on the edge of Hanta’s bed, next to Eijiro. “I came to see how your wrist was doing. Didn’t expect ya to have guests.” He said brashly, and Hanta smiled at the display.

  
“Aww, I’m glad to know you care.” Hanta teased, although on the inside he was positively giddy. Katsuki cared enough for his wellbeing to want to willingly check up on him long after their date had ended. In response to his statement, Katsuki snarled, but the motion held no malice.

  
“Hey, Blasty, you wanna join us? We’re just talking, really.” Mina offered, and Katsuki seemed a little shocked at the nickname. He scowled, shrugging nonchalantly.

  
“First of all, don’t fucking call me that, Pinky.” He started, and Mina fluttered her lashes innocent. “Second of all, I guess I’ve got nothing better to do.”

  
The group cheered out, and Katsuki rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. Denki bumped his shoulder, and leaned over to whisper to him. “Psst, Blasty,” he whispered, and Katsuki rolled his eyes at the nickname. Denki smirked, knowing he had his attention. “Your ass looks great in those pants.”

  
Katsuki swore he was on the verge of fainting from how quickly the blood rushed to his face. Surely his cheeks were the shade of his irises by now, and Denki leaned away, cackling loudly. Katsuki huffed, willing the blush off his cheeks, and shoved Denki off the bed. The other blonde let out an indignant yelp, and the others laughed at his misfortune. He popped his head up, a pout on his lips. “Hey! What was that for?”

  
Katsuki smirked, joining in on the laughter. “Fun.” He teased, and Denki lightly punched his shoulder, wiping away a fake tear.

  
“You guys are so mean to me. I’m ditching you all and finding new friends.” He joked, and Eijiro giggled.

  
“As if you could get anyone else to be friends with you.” He teased, and Katsuki couldn’t help doubling over in laughter as Denki grabbed a pillow from off the bed and jumped on Eijiro, assaulting him with the fluffy weapon.

  
“Someone call the fire department, ‘cause you just got _burned_.” Hanta said, and Mina rolled her eyes.

  
“Hanta, you sound like a fifty-year-old man trying to be ‘ _hip_ ’.” Hanta squawked in protest at the pink-haired girl’s words, but Katsuki voiced his wholehearted agreement.

  
“Just because it’s _true_ doesn’t mean you have to say it.” He protested, and Mina laughed, Hanta soon joining in.

  
Denki continued his attack on Eijiro, who was putting his hands up to block his face from being smothered with the pillow. Katsuki watched the scene unfold in front of him as Mina grabbed a pillow and stood on the bed, loudly declaring a pillow fight as she tackled Hanta—while being wary of his hurt arm—and hit his good side repeatedly with a pillow she snatched off his bed. The blonde smiled softly to himself as he went grab a pillow, hitting Mina and sufficiently knocking her over from the surprise attack.  
Further chaos ensued, and Katsuki couldn’t remember the last time he had genuinely smiled so much. Going into this, he was meant to find someone he could spend the rest of his life with, and who could rule beside him on the throne. But he hadn’t been expecting to make _friends_ too, but that’s just what this group was to him. Yeah, there’s still a chance he could be marrying one of them, and that’s definitely qualified as a lot more than friendship, but even if most of them didn’t end up winning, he had a feeling they wouldn’t lose touch.

  
And he loved how happy that fact made him.

* * *

Naturally, his good mood didn’t last long. Lunch had gone off without a hitch, but all good things must come to an end. He was standing outside the front gates of the palace besides his mother and father, waiting to greet their new guests as they arrived. Aizawa stood a few paces behind, staring solemnly ahead in disinterest. The tired looking man didn’t care much for Akuyaku, and figured an alliance was simply a waste of time. It was only delaying the inevitable.

  
Nonetheless, Katsuki had to stand tall and plaster a horribly fake smile on his face in an attempt to please his parents. To add to his annoyance at this entire situation, he also had _two_ more dates just that evening. It just felt like there was way too much going on at once, and he wasn’t taking the time to pace himself.

  
Even though he had done a fair amount of eliminations, he still had 21 candidates to manage, and he had thus far only taken _eight_ of them on one-on-one dates. It’s already been nearly two weeks, and if he wanted this Selection not to drag on forever, he desperately needed to pick up the pace, which is what he was _attempting_ to do. But how could he, when he was already busy enough as it was?

  
The past two weeks had been busy as hell with having to add dates to the list of tasks to complete. He enjoyed his time spent with each of the Selected, but he didn’t have time to spare or slack off. He had a duty as the Prince of Shizuoka, and he couldn’t abandon that for _anyone_ , no matter how much he wished he could.

  
Before his thoughts could spiral any further, a carriage was pulling up, the Shigaraki family crest shimmering on each side. The doors opened slowly, and the first person to step out was a short blonde girl with her hair pulled up into two messy buns. She had pale yellow eyes and a manic smile adorning her features, showing off her fang-like canines.

  
The next person out was another blonde, this one a man. He had a noticeable scar running straight down the center of his forehead, and he looked at Katsuki with haunted silver eyes, before glancing down at the small girl in front of him fondly. It was apparent the two were close.

  
Last out was probably the most distinctive appearing of all of them. A majority of his body was covered in horribly perceptible burns, which Katsuki unintentionally winced at the sight of. His spiky hair was black, although Katsuki suspected it was dyed since he could see hints of what was either red or orange growing at the roots. His eyes blazed a fiery blue, and he smiled wickedly at Katsuki as their eyes met. Katsuki met the expression with a hard scowl.

  
The small blonde girl was the first to introduce herself, skipping up towards Katsuki with a sadistic grin. She bowed hastily, and stuck out her hand once she had straightened up. Katsuki took it hesitantly. “My name’s Himiko Toga, nice to meetcha! Oh wow, such a nice place you have here!” She seemed friendly on the surface, but Katsuki was a little unsettled by the feverish glint in her yellow eyes. He retracted his hand almost immediately after offering it, and she moved along to shake hands with Katsuki’s mother and father, not bothered in the least.

  
“My name is Jin Bubaigawara. Nice to meet you, Your Highness.” The blonde man with a scar on his forehead started, smiling half-heartedly, before a scowl formed on his features. “Ya look like a snot-nosed brat to me, kid!”

  
Katsuki was taken aback by the sudden change in mood, but Toga was quick to intervene. “Oh, don’t you mind him. He has multiple-personality disorder.” She explained, grabbing the man’s hand and guiding him towards the gates. Katsuki pursed his lips, swallowing down his discomfort as the black haired male approached.

  
He didn’t bother with formalities, just nodded his head in the blonde’s direction. “Call me Dabi.” He said, and Katsuki looked at him curiously but didn’t comment.

  
“Alright.” He agreed, and Dabi seemed pleased he complied. “Enjoy your stay.” The welcome was half-hearted at best, but Dabi didn’t appear to mind. He didn’t entirely look like he even wanted to be there in the first place.

  
Mitsuki lead the guests inside, forcing a smile as they went. “We’re so glad you all could come. We’re very grateful for this arising opportunity. An alliance between our two nations has been sought after for many decades, so we are pleased that King Shigaraki is considering this at all.” She said, leading the trio in the grand front doors and giving them a moment to take in the sight of the palace before responding.

  
Dabi didn’t even blink before replying in an unsettlingly despondent tone. “You should be thanking his mentor, really. He was the one who requested Tomura to make this move at all.” He explained, and Katsuki looked at him in silent confusion. Who was his _mentor?_

  
“Oh yeah, he’s real scary.” Toga said, giggling madly. “What a nice place this is! Could we have a tour?” She asked, and Katsuki was a little surprised by the sudden change in topic, but took it as a sudden means of escape.

  
“We can arrange one for the three of you later, if that would suit to your needs. Unfortunately, I must be going now, as I have a date coming up in only a few short hours, and I must prepare.” Just as the blonde was about to turn and walk away, a hand grabbed his wrist. They didn’t seem to be a threat, but simply wanted his attention. He turned back, unsurprised to find Toga clinging to his arm.

  
“Oh, that’s right! You’re holding a Selection right now, right?” Katsuki nodded minutely, and Toga’s face was overtaken by a feral grin. “Can we meet them? Please?” She drew out the ‘e’ and batted her eyelashes, and Katsuki sighed, knowing his parents would be upset if he refused.

  
“Come along then. Let’s just introduce them to all of you at once.” Katsuki was off before the words had even left his mouth, but Toga definitely kept pace, clinging to his arm like it was a lifeline. Dabi was quick to follow, albeit a little reluctantly, and Jin was kinda slow on the uptake, but jogged after the group as soon as he realized he was getting left behind.

  
The Selected’s parlor wasn’t far from the entrance to the palace, and luckily for Katsuki, the walk wasn’t long. The strange guests interacted with each other in an almost familial way, teasing and joking with one another. If they all weren’t so unsettling on their own, Katsuki really wouldn’t have minded their presence.

  
“Umm, hey, Blasty.” Said an unsure voice to Katsuki’s left. The blonde snapped his head in that direction, looking desperately for who his savior was. Kaminari Denki strode over to the four of them, confusion written on his cute features. “Who are they?”

  
Katsuki tried to brush Toga off his arm as casually as he could, looping his arms through Denki’s for an excuse as to why he did so to the girl. The electric blonde seemed a little shocked at the action, but didn’t comment. “Weren’t you listening, dipshit? I told you and the others we’d have guests coming soon. Fucking listen next time.”

  
Dabi snorted at the manner of speech, a lot different than how Katsuki spoke when his parents were within earshot. Although, Katsuki spoke like this to his parents behind closed doors as well.

  
Denki pouted cutely, and Katsuki’s scowl only deepened. “When was this again?” He asked, and Katsuki glared harshly, making Denki nervously chuckle.

  
“When I almost ran soy sauce face over with the door.” A flicker of recognition crosses over Denki’s face before he breaks down in a fit of giggles.

  
“Okay, okay, _that_ part I remember.” He admitted through his laughter, then looked up to meet Katsuki’s eyes. “The rest, zilch.”

  
Katsuki groaned loudly and elbowed Denki in the ribs, making the smaller boy yelp and elbow back in retaliation. “As amusing as this is,” Dabi said with a condescending smirk, interrupting their mini-elbow war, “Shouldn’t we be going inside now?”

  
Katsuki huffed and nodded, opening the door and dragging a pouting Denki along with him. “Alright extras, listen up. Denki, go away.”

  
“Why are you so _mean_ to me?” Denki whined, sticking his tongue out at Katsuki childishly as he skipped across the room to take a seat next to Hitoshi and Hanta.

  
“Because you make it so _easy_.” Katsuki retorted, smirking.

“And here I thought we were friends.” Denki replied, wiping away a nonexistent tear.

  
Katsuki snorted at his antics. “You wish, pikachu.” He taunted, and Denki flipped him off, which he laughed at. “Okay, okay, so what I actually came here to tell you all is that the guests I told you guys about earlier have arrived. They’re waiting just outside, so.”

  
“OI!” Katsuki shouted, making most of the Selected jump from the volume. The blonde was certain the guests outside the door could hear him. “COME ON IN EXTRAS!”

  
Jin opened the door, holding it open for Toga and Dabi and following in after them once they were inside. The Selected began silently studying, waiting for someone to speak up. “Aw, well they look nice.” Jin said softly, before panic began edging onto his features. “This is way too many people!”

  
He cowered behind Dabi, who rolled his eyes. Many of the candidates seemed shocked at Jin’s outburst, but didn’t comment. The black-haired man standing in front of Jin had been drawing a lot of attention, Katsuki guessing because of his extensive scarring. “That’s Jin Bubaigawara, although most of us just call him Twice.” Dabi said, before introducing himself. “Call me Dabi. Don’t ask for my real name, ‘cause I won’t say.”

  
Izuku was a little perplexed by this fact. What was wrong with him sharing his name? Unless he was a wanted fugitive in this region and had gone to Akuyaku to start over. But why didn’t he use a different name that sounded more believable than ‘Dabi’? And, if that were the case, why tell people not to ask for his name rather than just come up with a new identity entirely? If he wasn’t even originally from Akuyaku, how did he rise through the ranks so quickly? What if—

  
“Oi, Deku, shaddup!” Katsuki said, and Izuku clenched his teeth shut tightly, realizing he had been mumbling his thoughts aloud. The green-haired male silently questioned the fact that the Prince had called him ‘Deku’, but he had heard from the others that the explosive blonde had a tendency to give nicknames to some of the candidates, so it wasn’t all that surprising.

  
Dabi was looking at Izuku in amusement at the predicament. “Doesn’t Deku mean ‘useless’?” He asked nonchalantly, and Izuku flushed at the implications.

  
“Well, technically, but it kinda has those ‘you can do it!’ vibes too.” Ochaco said, smiling bitterly at Dabi, who merely shrugged.

  
“I was only asking, not trying to offend.” He explained, before continuing. “And I’m not a wanted fugitive around here, I just don’t want people knowing who I am. And no, I’m not originally from Akuyaku, I was just at the right place at the right time and it led me here.”

  
“I’m Himiko Toga!” The small blonde girl suddenly squealed, drawing attention away from Dabi’s ominous statement. “Sorry, that was random. Some topics just get so boring after too long, right?”

  
“Yeah!” Jin heartily agreed, before pursing his lips at the other blonde. “You should ease into a new topic first, Himiko.”

  
“Right, well, as fun as this conversation is, I have an aneurysm scheduled right about now, so I’ll be off.” Hitoshi said, standing up and dusting imaginary dirt off his pants, a blank look on his face. Denki snickered silently behind his hand at the taller boy’s comment. Suddenly the blonde jumped up, as it seemed Hitoshi genuinely was planning to leave.

  
“Hey, wait, take me with you!” Denki pleaded with a pout, and Hitoshi sighed before gesturing for the blonde to follow him. “So, where are we actually going?”

* * *

“So, where are we going for our date?” Mei asks, her yellow eyes zeroing in on the Prince in an unsettlingly sharp manner.

  
“You’re an engineer, correct?” He asks slowly, waiting for her overenthusiastic response.

  
“Yup! It’s fun too, I make lots of babies.” Katsuki nearly choked on his spit when he heard that, knowing the pink-haired girl probably didn’t realize what she was implying.

  
“R-right, well, we’re going to the armory. We’re not very tech-savvy here, but the armory is the closest we have to anything related to engineering.” Mei scrunched her nose in distaste.

  
“That’s more related to a blacksmith’s job, though, isn’t it?” She asked skeptically. Looking at weapons wasn’t exactly her idea of a good time.

  
“Yeah, it is, but I was hoping you’d still be able to admire the craftsmanship. Also, we’re going to go outside and see where our guards train, and maybe you can give them suggestions for different support items that might help them in the long run.” He offered, and her eyes lit up.

  
“Oh, inspiration for new babies, I love it!” She said, smiling maniacally. “Let’s go!” She shouted, racing ahead.

  
“Wait up, dumbass, you don’t even know where you’re going!”

* * *

“No offense, but the armory was kinda boring.” Mei said bluntly. “Let’s go watch this training!” She tugged roughly on Katsuki’s arm, dragging him along outside, and he huffed in annoyance.

  
Mei was a lot to handle, and she was oddly eccentric, more so than anyone he’d met before. He wasn’t sure if he enjoyed the change of pace or found it irritating. As she dragged him around, Katsuki watched the men as they trained. Some were sparring, and Katsuki gave them quick tips to improve as he passed, which they heartily thanked him for. Some were jogging or stretching, and others were doing basic workouts on their own or in groups.

  
“You look a little stiff,” Katsuki pointed out to one of the guards who was in the midst of doing push-ups.

  
“I’m really sore,” the man admitted, and Katsuki scoffed.

  
“Do some fucking stretches before jumping straight into the actual workout. That way you don’t fucking pull a muscle or something.” He said, glaring sharply, and the guard smiled sheepishly at him and thanked him, starting on some simple stretches. 

  
“Do you know how to fight?” Mei asked, although she seemed a little distracted. She had been shouting tips to some of the men as well, in different regards to what Katsuki had been doing. The blonde had been giving them advice on what to improve on, and she had been telling them about different creams or supports that could help them to get even better.

  
“Of course I do.” Katsuki said, smirking slightly. “I’m certainly better than most of the extras here.”

  
“Oh, don’t be so smug, Your Highness.” She teased. 

  
The pair continued walking around, and they both separately talked to the guards training there, giving their own words of advice, which they were profusely thanked for.

  
“That was fun, wasn’t it?” Mei asked afterwards, her excitement apparent on her face. “I’ve thought of so many new babies to make after observing them, you know. Hey, you with me?” She asked, waving a hand in front of his face to grab his attention.

  
“We hardly spent any real time together.” He pointed out sharply, and Mei merely shrugged.

  
“So? It was still pretty cool.” She said nonchalantly, and Katsuki glared at her calculatingly.

  
“I hate to tell you this,” he said reluctantly. “But I think it’s better if I dismiss you from the Selection.” She looked at him in shock, and he choked down a wave of guilt coming over him. It _was_ sudden after all, and it’s not like she had done anything wrong. But she hadn’t done anything necessarily _right_ either. Quite frankly, she was at best annoying, but the fact that she didn’t seem to be taking the Selection seriously pushed Katsuki’s buttons.  
  


They had been on a date, and she only made an attempt to talk to him a couple times. When he talked to her, she gave short replies and awkward silence proceeded. Katsuki didn’t dislike her, and maybe in the future he’d consider purchasing some of her so-called ‘babies’, but he could never see himself marrying her. Her demeanor was too spontaneous and aloof.

  
“Well, that was definitely abrupt. I’ll go pack my things, and be on my way. Send some lunch for me, will ya? I’m famished!” She said, not phased in the slightest about the fact that Katsuki had basically just eliminated her.

  
“You don’t seem upset.” Katsuki observed, narrowing his eyes as she shrugged.

  
“What, were you expecting me to bawl my eyes out over this?” She snapped. “I’m not some pathetic little girl. I have more dignity than that. If I’m leaving, then I’m leaving with my head held high.”

  
Katsuki seemed surprised by the sudden change in mood, but his shocked expression soon morphed into a smirk. “I’m not sending lunch up to your room, Hatsume. You’re gonna come eat with me and the rest of the Selected for one final meal together. Say your farewells and all that.” He said, turning on his heel and continuing in the direction of the Great Hall. When he noticed she wasn’t following he turned to her and scowled. “Are you coming?”

  
She met his scowl with a wicked grin, taking long strides to match his pace as she went to eat her final meal in the palace.

* * *

“I-it’s such a sh-shame that Hatsume was dismissed s-so early on.” Izuku stuttered, thoroughly distracted by the blonde girl on his left. Toga had asked if she could join their group as they talked, and everyone sitting there had readily accepted. Now most regretted the action, as the blonde had been shamelessly flirting with Izuku and Ochaco ever since she got there, and it was beginning to make the green-haired boy a little uncomfortable.

  
The others, thankfully, ignored his stuttering. “Yeah, she was so nice! A little excitable, but since when has that been a bad thing?” Ochaco said, and Izuku nodded his agreement. Tenya was by far the most upset of the group, since he and Mei had grown really close over the past two weeks.

  
“It’s not a bad thing.” Tenya said, his frown deepening. “She wouldn’t say what had happened to get her dismissed at dinner. I wonder what happened . . .”

  
“Hatsume? She had pink hair, right?” Toga asked, discretely scooching closer to Izuku, who moved further away.

  
“Yeah, pink hair, golden eyes, and in the picture they took of her for the Selection, she had these weird goggles on.” Ochaco described, and Toga thought it over, her face eventually brightening in recognition.

  
“Oh, that’s right! I know the one you’re talking about.” She said, grinning broadly, her fang-like canines on full display. “Before we came here, Shiggy asked us all to learn the names and faces of the Selected. I don’t really know why, but I sucked at it either way.”

  
“Who’s Shiggy?” Izuku asked, hoping it wasn’t a stupid question. He didn’t know much about Akuyaku, after all.

  
“Oh! Shigaraki, of course! It just sounds cuter as Shiggy, dontcha think?” Her smile widened, making Izuku shift uncomfortably. Something about the girl’s smile was oddly unsettling. “Anyways, of course I remembered your face, Izu! How could I forget such a cute one, after all?”

  
“Heh, thanks . . .” Izuku muttered. The green-haired boy thanked all the gods above as Shoto got up from where he had been talking with Kyoka, Fumikage and the mysterious Dabi, and walked over to where Izuku, Ochaco, Tenya and Toga were at. And, him being the saint he is, sat right in between Toga and Izuku. “Oh, Sh-shoto!”

  
“Oh, ‘Shoto’ now, is it?” Ochaco teased, and Izuku flushed beet red. A lot of the Selected had skipped the formalities and asked most of their friends to just call them by their given name, but Shoto simply wasn’t one of them. Then again, Izuku sincerely doubted that if he hadn’t asked if he could call the heterochromatic boy that, he would have offered.

  
“Ochaco, hush! We’re here for the Prince, not each other.” He said hotly, and Ochaco giggled.

  
“That doesn’t stop me from teasing,” she said, and Izuku glared half-heartedly. “Besides, basically everyone in here is queer, Deku, I can guarantee by the end of the Selection some of the people in here will end up with one another rather than the Prince.”

  
“If you had to pick someone other than the Prince, in this room, who would it be, Ocha?” Toga asked, and Ochaco thought about it, looking around briefly.

  
“I guess Mina or Camie,” she said eventually. “What about you, Izu, hmm?” She asked teasingly, and Izuku stuck his tongue out at her. She laughed in return. “Seriously! Answer the question, I’m curious.”

  
Izuku hated the fact that his mind immediately thought of Shoto. He was very attractive, after all, and made for wonderful company. But of course Izuku couldn’t say that, the man was _right beside of him_. “W-well K-Kirishima’s really h-hot.” Okay, he definitely hadn’t meant to word it like _that._

 _  
_ Ochaco snorted, before discretely glancing at the redhead. “I agree. He hasn’t worn short sleeves yet, but you can just _tell_ he’s fucking _ripped._ ” She said, and Izuku snorted. Eijiro _was_ insanely attractive, and one of the sweetest people in the room by far, but Izuku could never see himself actually having feelings for the spiky-haired boy in that way, and he figured Ochaco felt the same. That doesn’t mean they can’t just _admire_ him from afar, right?  
  


“Okay, okay, Iida, even I did it. Now you have to suffer as well,” Izuku said, turning to his uptight friend.

  
“No.”

  
“Aww, come on, Iida! Tell us!” Ochaco pleaded, using her surprisingly efficient puppy dog eyes on the boy. It was only when Izuku used his own as well that he cracked, finally admitting to who it would be.

  
“If Mei were still here, I would have chosen her. But, considering they have to be _in this room_ , I’d choose you, Izuku.” He said simply, and Izuku gaped.

  
“M-me?!” He asked, once he’d finally recovered from his initial shock. Ochaco was cackling by his side, and he gently slapped her arm to get her to stop. It had the opposite effect, only making her laugh harder.

  
“If I had to choose, I’d pick you as well, Izuku.” Shoto said, his expression blank. This was it. Izuku had officially died from pure embarrassment.

  
When Ochaco finally recovered from her laughing fit, she gripped Izuku’s arm tightly. “Oh, you’ve got to teach me your ways, Izuku!” She said teasingly, which really only made him blush harder than he was before. “Gosh, you blush so _easily_.”

  
“Well, I wouldn’t if you all would stop _embarrassing me_.” He said hotly, fanning his face in hopes it would help fight away the blush.

Shoto looked at him with a quizzical expression, his head tilted to the side ever so slightly. “What have we done to embarrass you?” He asked, seeming genuinely confused.

  
“Never mind, let’s just move on,” Izuku muttered, wanting to stray away from the former topic. “Hey, where did Toga go?”

* * *

“So, um,” Denki began, breaking the awkward silence that had formed between him and Hitoshi as they walked. “Where is it that we’re going?”

  
“Long story short, we’re going to meet with Aizawa.” Hitoshi said simply, and the blonde looked at him curiously.

  
“To do what, exactly?” He questioned further. And Hitoshi huffed slightly in annoyance. Even Hitoshi himself wasn’t entirely sure.

  
After Aizawa had helped Hitoshi through his panic attack at the beginning of the Selection, the two had grown pretty close. After a few days, Aizawa offered to start tutoring him since he hadn’t gotten a chance at a real education before, but it had always seemed to Hitoshi like the older man had some sort of hidden agenda. It didn’t seem like anything bad, per se, but whenever Hitoshi questioned Aizawa on the matter, he’d deflect the boy’s questions.

  
“Tutoring.” He supplied instead. Denki didn’t need to know the details, and although the blonde didn’t seem entirely satisfied with the short response, he didn’t question Hitoshi any further.

  
“Well, that’s cool. I’m not the smartest, so I could probably use the extra help.” He said, smiling softly. “That is, of course, if you two don’t mind having me just this once.”

  
“I don’t mind.” Hitoshi said immediately. In fact, he’s actually really glad the blonde decided to join him, even if he hadn’t known what they were going to do when they left. “We’ll see about Aizawa.”

  
“I don’t think he will.” Denki said with a sly smile, and Hitoshi sent him a questioning look. “He can’t mind loud blondes too much if he’s married to Yamada Hizashi, y’know?”

  
This was certainly news to Hitoshi. Aizawa never even wore a wedding ring, and certainly didn’t give any indication he was _married_. “Are you sure about that?” He asked skeptically. How would Denki know and not him? He was a lot closer to Aizawa than the blonde, for starters, and Denki wasn’t really known to be the most observant.

“Oh yeah, definitely. He wears his wedding band on a chain around his neck, so it’s really hard to see past his scarf. And Hizashi has the same one, too! I’m sure of it.” He said confidently, and Hitoshi had to admit he was mildly impressed. Although it really wasn’t much to go off of, the purple-haired boy had to admit he had never noticed any chain that the older man wore. Denki was more capable than Hitoshi originally gave him credit for.

  
“Wow. I didn’t realize,” he admitted, still a little shocked from the news. Denki smiled slightly, but it looked a little forced.

  
“I don’t blame you for not believing me at first. People rarely do,” there was a hint of despair at the edge of the blonde’s tone that broke Hitoshi’s heart. His golden gaze drifted downwards until it landed on his shoes, locking there to avoid making eye contact as the pair walked.

  
Hitoshi cleared his throat awkwardly, and Denki’s eyes flicked in his direction briefly. “Why is that?” He asked, and Denki snorted, as if it was obvious.

  
“We both know I’m not exactly the smartest person here. Far from it, in fact.” Hitoshi hated how those words seem to ring true. It’s why he had been skeptical of Denki’s statement at first, and he hated to think he thought that of the blonde. “It’s what you were thinking, too, right? That I’m not smart enough to make an observation like that.”

  
“You’re not stupid, Denki.” Hitoshi said, ignoring the question. The blonde narrowed his eyes, not missing the deflection. Denki opened his mouth, presumably about to say something, but the words died on his tongue as he saw a head of pale blonde hair turn the corner behind Hitoshi.

  
The violet-haired boy turned around, searching for what Denki was looking at, and his purple gaze was met with insipid yellow. Toga was approaching the two boys with a manic grin stretched across her young face. “Oh, hey there boys! Just the two I was looking for!” She said cheerily, her smile widening. “Why’d you two run off before?”

  
“I have somewhere to be.” Hitoshi said coldly. The Prince had requested them to play nice, but it’s not like he intended to stay here long. The three new guests gave off bad vibes, and he wasn’t here to sit still and look pretty. He didn’t like them, and he wanted to make that known.

  
“Ouch, gonna give me frostbite with that tone, hon.” She then turned to Denki, who was attempting a smile for her sake. “You look distraught. What were you two talking about?”

  
The blonde’s smile fell, and he turned away from Toga and Hitoshi to mask his anger. “Nothing.” He said, with an air of finality that chilled Hitoshi to the bone. Denki was rarely the type to get so upset, and Hitoshi hated knowing he was the reason for the blonde’s bad mood.

  
“Sheesh, what’d you do to him?” Toga asked Hitoshi, and he sneered at her menacingly. She didn’t even flinch.

  
“Well, I really have to go. I wish I could say it was a pleasure, but it really wasn’t.” He said harshly, glaring at Toga and looking longingly at Denki’s turned back. “Are you still coming with?”

  
A heated silence filled the mostly empty corridor as Hitoshi waited on the blonde’s answer. “Yeah. Guess I need all the help I can get, since I’m so stupid, after all.” Denki’s face was completely void of emotion, and Hitoshi internally winced at the expression on the usually lively boy’s face. “See you around, Toga.”

* * *

“Perhaps it would be a good idea to go to the library after dinner. I think you all could use the extra reading material.” Tenya said, and Izuku snorted loudly at the backhanded comment.

  
“Sheesh, you coulda just left it at asking if we wanted to go to the library.” Ochaco said, laughing rather than feeling insulted by it. “But it sounds like a fun idea, so I’m down.”

  
Izuku and Shoto agreed just as readily, and Tenya frowned slightly. “None of you intend on reading, do you?”

  
Izuku and Ochaco shared twin giggles, and spoke in perfect unison, “Nope!”

  
Shoto just looked at Tenya, unamused. “I might.” He said dully, and Tenya sighed. Although, as much as he acted like his friends annoyed him, he honestly enjoyed having them around. Most people didn’t take much of a liking to him since he was raised so strictly, and was a bit of a stick-in-the-mud because of it.

  
Izuku, Ochaco, and possibly even Shoto have helped him loosen up a bit, and learn to have more fun. While his parents would scoff at the notion, he enjoyed it. Having friends was a new concept to him, but he certainly didn’t mind.

  
“Dinner time,” Aizawa said, breaking Tenya from his thoughts. He snapped his head up to the now closed door, seemingly as if the older man had never been there at all.

  
Despite that, Tenya and the others got up to go and start dinner. As they were walking, Shoto was—surprisingly enough—the first to speak. “Yaoyorozu’s date is tonight, correct?” He asked.

  
“Yeah, since she’s already gone I’m guessing she might be having a dinner date with the Prince.” Izuku hypothesized aloud, and Tenya spoke of his agreement.

  
“That would make sense,” he began, and Izuku smiled softly. “He’s had a lot of dinner dates though. There are plenty of things to do in the palace, so it’s strange he keeps reusing the same concept.”

  
“This is only the tenth date, Iida.” Izuku pointed out, covering up the beginnings of a laugh with forced coughs. “And I believe he’s only gone on two or three dinner dates. Besides, while there are many things to do here, he’s probably just trying to decide what certain people might enjoy most or what would be preferable for a group date versus a private date.

  
“For example, I heard there was a bowling alley somewhere in the palace. While going bowling on a date seems like a cute idea, it’s often a much less awkward experience when there are other people in the bowling alley to fill the space. When it’s _just_ the Prince and his date in the entire bowling alley, it would probably be kind of stiff, or tense. If it was set up as a group date, there are more people there and it just makes things a whole less awkward overall. Another example could be the swi—”  
  


Izuku abruptly cut himself off, his jaw shutting with an audible click. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to go on a rant like that.”

  
“I personally found it amusing, Izuku. No need to apologize.” Shoto said, and when Izuku glanced at him, he found there were the beginnings of a smile tugging at Shoto’s lips, making his own twist up into a bright smile as well.

  
“Yeah, you seemed so focused on what you were saying while you spoke.” Ochaco pointed out, and Izuku’s smile turned sheepish. “Oh! We’re here. We’ll meet up after we eat, and head to the library, sound good?”  
“Yeah!”

  
“Sure.”

  
“Alright, I’ll see you all then.”

* * *

“The food is amazing, Your Highness,” Momo stated in an overly formal tone, making Katsuki scowl. Momo was pretty, and polite, and well-mannered, but she took those qualities almost to the extreme. The blonde was just waiting for the raven-haired girl to loosen up.

  
“Could you have sat any further away?” Katsuki mumbled so Momo wouldn’t hear. The table they were sat at was long, and while Katsuki had originally expected Momo to take a seat beside of him, she chose to sit at the other end of the table. “I’ll send my compliments to the chef.”

  
It would’ve sounded less snarky if the blonde hadn’t been sneering while he said it, but Momo didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. “I’m nearly done with my plate.” She mentioned, and Katsuki sighed loudly.

  
“Can we talk about something that isn’t our fucking food?” The blonde wasn’t sure why Momo looked shocked at the fact that he cursed. He was sure he had done so in the past on multiple occasions.

  
“Um, sure,” she said unsurely, and Katsuki exhaled in relief. “What are the purpose of these guests that arrived today?” Katsuki hadn’t trusted any of the Selected with that secret since Kendo, who wasn’t even a part of the Selection any longer. He supposed he’d have to tell half-truths.

  
“They’re just here so we can make a peace treaty to avoid war.” He explained briefly. Technically, that wasn’t a lie. He just didn’t explain any of the details as to how they planned to form this supposed alliance.

  
“Are you certain they can be trusted?” Momo questioned, furrowing her eyebrows in concern. “Akuyaku doesn’t have any alliances with other nations that are known of. The members of their nation aren’t the most trustworthy, either. Toga, Dabi, and Bubaigawara could be here acting as spies to infiltrate your palace and finish this war before it’s even begun.”

  
Katsuki narrowed his eyes, deep in thought. If that was true, they could be gathering secrets about Shizuoka as we speak. That was probably their tactic all along. While those three are at the palace, they can gather information and relay it back to King Shigaraki somehow, while he prepares his forces to attack while they’re unsuspecting. If Katsuki doesn’t agree to their terms of marriage, they’ll move in to attack.

  
“I’m sorry to cut this portion of our date a little short, Yaoyorozu, but if we could move into the library now, I hope that’s alright with you.” Katsuki didn’t wait for a response, and instead got up and made a move towards the door, Momo hot on his heels after a moment.

  
“Perfectly fine, Your Highness.”

* * *

“I am reading, Iida!” Ochaco protested, pouting cutely, while Tenya merely glared at her, unamused.  
  


“Your book is upside down.”

  
Their mindless banter was interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open, and two sets of footsteps walking inside the library. “Who do you think it is?” Ochaco stage-whispered, and Izuku tried not to snort at her horrible attempts of being quiet.

  
“Ochaco, have you ever heard of the term _whispering_?” Izuku asked quietly, and Ochaco flipped him off silently.

  
“What do you think I was doing before?”

  
“Hey,” a deep voice called out, and Izuku was suddenly certain he recognized who the voice belonged to. “Is there someone else in here?”

  
“Prince Bakugou?” Izuku called out, and a head of spiky blonde hair peeked around the corner. His deep, crimson eyes met Izuku’s viridian, and Izuku’s face lit up with a blinding smile.

  
“The one and only.” He said, and then the others noticed Momo shuffling awkwardly behind the Prince.

  
“Oh! Are you two on a date?” Ochaco asked loudly, and everyone turned to shush her teasingly.

  
“This is a _library._ ” Tenya reminded her, and she dismissed his remark with a wave of her hand.

  
“I don’t see any sign telling me to be quiet.” Ochaco said facetiously, and Shoto looked pointedly at a sign behind his head reading ‘ _Please refrain from making too much unnecessary noise while in the confines of this room_ ’. Ochaco merely glared at Shoto, and crossed her arms with a huff.

  
“Well,” Izuku said awkwardly. “We can go ahead and leave you both to your privacy.” He offered, beginning to collect the books they had pulled out into a neat stack.

  
“Actually, what if we join you all?” Momo asked, and Izuku swore he saw Katsuki sigh in relief. “If you don’t mind, of course. You as well, Your Highness.”

  
“No, I don’t mind.” Katsuki said immediately, and Izuku chuckled softly.

  
“Well, we certainly don’t either. Come on over!” He offered, and Momo took a careful seat besides Shoto, and Katsuki sat on her other side.

  
Izuku would love to say they heeded the sign’s advice and remained quiet, but it’d be an outright lie if he said they actually got any real reading done. The normally quiet library was filled with joyous laughter and good-natured teasing throughout the night, and Katsuki nearly forgot about the detrimental news he needed to share with his father.

  
Nearly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you go. The new guests are Dabi, Toga and Twice. I can already tell you they're probably going to be really ooc in the future, because I just don't fucking know how to properly write them in character, but I'm trying. Also, THIS IS A MANGA SPOILER IF YOU AREN'T CAUGHT UP DON'T READ THE REST OF THIS PARAGRAPH, but rip Twice. He was my favorite member of the LoV :(
> 
> The date I was talking about in the beginning notes was the date with Hatsume. I genuinely hated how I wrote it, because Hatsume wasn't in character at all and the date just didn't hold any good details. There wasn't even a specific reason as to why Katsuki eliminated her, I just wanted to narrow the Selected down to 20 before the Report chapter, which will be out on Friday.
> 
> I really enjoyed writing the bakusquad fluff, 'cause those five are just amazing, imo. If I could be a member of either the dekusquad or the bakusquad, I'd choose the bakusquad in a heartbeat. 
> 
> Also, I like to believe that Denki is actually pretty smart, he just doesn't seem that way at first, and most people assume that he isn't. I wouldn't go so far as to say that he's as smart as Momo or Izuku or anything like that, but he has the potential to be near the middle of the class in terms of grades. I'll probably go more into depth about his past later on in the story, since he's one of my favorite characters uwu
> 
> Anyways, the long overdue list of the now 20 Selected plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four  
> Also, I have to split the Report up into two weeks, so we're not gonna have anymore eliminations for a while, most likely. Either there's going to be NO eliminations, or two eliminations, so we'll see.
> 
> Anyways, next chapter there won't be any dates, and it'll be entirely focused on the Report. I'll have it out on Friday, so look forwards to that ^w^


	14. The Report

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Report chapter is finally here :P As well as some fluff at the beginning
> 
> It's a REALLY long chapter too, you're welcome
> 
> Lastly, one of the characters in the chapter will be talking about dyslexia and dyscalculia. I don't have either, and I don't know anyone who does, so I'm sorry if the descriptions in the chapter aren't entirely accurate. If anyone reading this has a better description of what they're like, tell me and I'll fix it.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Shiozaki,” the girl in question turned her head towards the sound of the tired voice being directed at her. 

  
“Hm?” She said simply, although she was curious as to why Hitoshi Shinso wanted her attention. The two hadn’t spoken before throughout the entirety of the Selection, and she found it peculiar that he would seek her out.

  
“You have to go into town later today to pick up some necklace, right?” He asked, and she nodded in lieu of response, which made him smirk, if only slightly. “I was wondering if I could go pick it up for you. I’ve been having some . . . issues, during my stay here, so I’m kinda taking any chance I can get to go out.”

  
Shiozaki kept her expression neutral while she replied. “Sure. Saves me more time to get ready for tonight, anyways.” She said calmly, and Hitoshi thanked her before returning to his friends.

  
It was still odd to him, considering them ‘friends’, as he’s never had any in the past. Some Eights joined up in groups, and split their rare winnings, but for the most part you had to either learn to take care of yourself or die. It was harsh, but it was the only way to survive. 

  
But somehow, he had let these losers become a constant part of his life, and he hated how oddly attached to them he felt. Especially Denki, who was still ignoring him, at the moment.

  
When Hitoshi had questioned Aizawa, he reluctantly admitted that him and the Report’s famously known host were in fact married, and had been for several years. When the older man had admitted this fact, Denki looked slightly smug, before masking the expression entirely.

  
Even more surprisingly, the blonde had done exceedingly well in their studies. He had an in-depth understanding of the history of Shizuoka and was fairly well-versed in political matters. He exceeded in linguistics, and Hitoshi found himself once again shocked at the fact that the blonde knew _seven_ separate languages, whereas Hitoshi was only fluent in two.

  
He had underestimated Denki, that was for certain, but something still didn’t add up. When Aizawa had given them a written quiz on most of the matters they had just covered before during their discussion, Denki didn’t just do mediocrely, he _bombed_ it. There were maybe three questions he answered correctly, if even that.

  
It didn’t make sense. Had Denki failed on purpose? Or was there some other reason that he had done so poorly? Maybe it had something to do with the fact that it was written rather than verbal?—

  
“Yo, Earth to Shinso,” a hand waving in Hitoshi’s face snapped him out of his stupor, and he glared pointedly at Hanta’s sheepish smile. “Sorry, dude, you were kinda spacing out on us there.”

  
“Sorry.” He said, although the apology wasn’t very sincere. His rarely ever were, unless it was over something that truly mattered to him. Hitoshi accidentally zoning out during a conversation was worth an apology, but he almost felt obligated to say something of the like.

  
“No need to apologize, man,” Hanta said, waving away his words with a flick of his wrist. “What’d you talk to Shiozaki about?”

  
“Oh right. That.” He said. _Real smart, Hitoshi,_ he mentally chided himself. “I just asked if I could go pick up her necklace for her. Some fresh air would be nice.”

  
“Makes sense,” Mina agreed. The pink-haired girl was currently in the process of braiding Momo’s hair, as she had the longest hair out of anyone there. Mina was eyeing Eijiro’s spiky, gelled up hair, as if it would be next.

  
“Any of you guys want to come with?” Hitoshi asked, glancing hopefully in Denki’s direction. Kyoka, being the saint she is, picked up on this little fact and poked the blonde’s side.

  
“You should get out, Denki. You’ve been looking a little pale the past few days.” She teased, and Denki pouted.

  
“I look _fine_ , Kyoka!” He protested, and she sucked her teeth by way of disagreement. “I’ll consider it.” He said lowly, glancing at Hitoshi before his golden eyes flicked away.  
  


“Oh, when are you two dolts going to stop circling around each other and fucking talk out your beef?” Mina snapped, apparently tugging a little too hard on Momo’s hair, as the raven-haired girl winced slightly. “Sorry, Momo.” She muttered, before fixing a glare on Denki and Hitoshi. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but work it the fuck out already. Denki, you’re going with Hitoshi to town, end of story.”

  
“You’re not my mom!” Denki said angrily, but Mina merely silenced him with a glare. He slumped back, a kitten-like pout resting on his already adorable features. “Fine.”

  
Maybe this was Hitoshi’s chance to finally get some answers.

* * *

The carriage ride into town was filled with awkward and incredibly tense silence. Every time Hitoshi attempted to try and talk to Denki, the blonde just glared at him and stared out the window.

  
“C’mon, Denki, are you really gonna stay mad at me?” He asks, hating how desperate his voice sounds to his own ears. “Just talk to me. Please.”

  
Denki sighs, twirling a strand of golden-blonde hair between his fingers absent-mindedly. “We have nothing to discuss.” He said, with a tone of finality.

  
“Let me at least apologize.” Hitoshi practically begs, and Denki gives him a look saying: ‘ _go on_ ’. “First of all, I don’t think you’re stupid, Denki. A bit of a crackhead, sure, but you’re not an idiot. I shouldn’t have doubted that before, and I’m sorry for doing so. And, I’ll also admit, you’re a lot smarter than I first assumed.”  
  


“Why did you think I wouldn’t be in the first place?” Denki asks, and it makes Hitoshi pause. He wasn’t entirely sure of his own answer. The blonde had given no indication in the past that he wasn’t intelligent, although he did seem a little incapable at times.

  
“Just the way you act, I guess. You act more like a dumbass than you are.” Denki snorts slightly, and Hitoshi cracks a small smile. “But some things don’t make sense.”

  
Denki looks at him quizzically. “What do you mean?” Hitoshi hated how adorable he found that look to be, and his face began heating up against his will.

  
“Based on how you responded during lessons with Aizawa yesterday, you should’ve aced the written exam he gave us. But you didn’t.” He began, and Denki frowned a bit in what looked to be discomfort. “Can you read, Denki?”

  
The blonde hastily nodded, then grimaced. “Yes! Well, maybe. Sort of?” He said and Hitoshi just pursed his lips, confused by the response. Denki groaned, attempting to explain. “When I try to read, the words and letters, like, jump off the page and get all jumbled up in my head. I can’t make any sense of them. The same thing happens with numbers.”

  
Hitoshi froze, the pieces starting to come together in his mind. “Have you ever told anyone about this before?” Denki shook his head, and Hitoshi sighed. “Well, to me, that sounds like dyslexia. And possibly dyscalculia as well.”

  
Denki blinked at him, surprise written across his features. “Oh.” He said quietly, and it looked like he was still processing everything Hitoshi had said. To the taller boy’s surprise, the blonde’s eyes began filling up with tears. “Does that mean I’m always going to be stupid?”

  
“You never were,” Hitoshi retorted immediately, and Denki’s gaze dropped to the ground, avoiding eye contact. The purple-haired boy sighed slightly, and shifted so he was sitting next to the blonde rather than across from him. He softly placed his slightly larger hand over top of Denki’s. “You’re already so smart, Denki. Learning verbally rather than through reading or writing material is probably the best way to go about things. If you want to join me more often during my lectures with Aizawa, you’re welcome to. I can tell him about your possible dyslexia and dyscalculia as well, if you’re comfortable with it.”

  
Denki nodded, almost imperceptibly, and Hitoshi only barely noticed the motion. “Thanks, ‘Toshi,” the blonde muttered, sniffling quietly. Hitoshi smiled and wrapped the smaller boy up into a hug.

  
“Any time, Denks,” he said, and Denki returned the gesture by giving him a watery smile and wrapping his arms around Hitoshi’s frame, leaning into the hug while tears rolled down his cheeks.

  
Hitoshi broke one arm free to wipe away the blonde’s tears, and pulled him closer to his chest. Denki curled into the warmth he provided, and they sat there in each other’s arms for the rest of the carriage ride, only pulling away when the driver turned around to yell that they had arrived.

* * *

“Good evening, listeners!” Yamada’s voice boomed across the set, seemingly even louder in person than he was on screen. “Tonight we have a few special announcements, and we’re finally going to be getting to meet a few of the Selected!

  
“First things first, we’re going to have a very special announcement from the one and only: Queen Mitsuki Bakugou!” He introduced her spectacularly, and the blonde woman walked out with a forced smile. Yamada bowed his head in her direction and

shuffled off to the side, and out of the line of the cameras.

  
“Members of Shizuoka, it is a pleasure to be gracing your home and town screens tonight. I don’t have much to say, tonight; in fact, I’m merely here to make a few introductions.” She paused, glancing slightly offset where Toga, Dabi and Twice were waiting behind the scenes. “For the first time in decades, we are seeing the beginnings of a chance for peace with our neighboring nation, Akuyaku. Three men and women have been sent here, to stay within our walls, in order to represent their homeland and negotiate an alliance.

  
“May I welcome here tonight; Lady Himiko Toga,” Toga walked out with a sickeningly sweet smile, waving curtly in the direction of the cameras, and bowing slightly to the Queen. “Sir Jin Bubaigawara.” Twice stepped out next, bowing quickly to the Queen before taking a stiff stance next to Toga. “And lastly, Sir Dabi.” Dabi lifted up a casual hand in way of a wave as he walked out, skipping formalities and standing beside of Twice rather than bowing to the Queen.

  
The ash blonde’s lip twitched slightly at the disrespect, but she masked it well. “I hope you all will welcome this new development and opportunity for our nation with open arms, as we all have. Thank you for your time.” She smiled once again, although most of the Selected could clearly see it was strained. Her, and the three members from Akuyaku, walked off stage, and the blonde’s smile dropped as soon as she was away from the cameras, being replaced instead by a scowl.

  
“What a fortuitous opportunity this is for us!” Yamada said, matching his tone with a blinding grin. “Now, to what I know you’re all certainly waiting for, an interview of the Selected!”

  
Before the show had begun, the Selected were told to sit, and were instructed on whether they were meant to be seated in the first or second rows of the assortment of chairs. In the front row sat, from left to right, Hanta, Eijiro, Mina, Denki, Hitoshi, Shoto, Izuku, Ochaco, Momo, and Mirio. The back row consisted of Tamaki, Nejire, Neito, Tetsutetsu, Shiozaki, Tenya, Fumikage, Kyoka, Camie, and Inasa.

  
Only those who were sitting in the front row were getting interviewed this time around, since there was a limited amount of time for how long the Report would air. Aizawa had purposely asked those ten to sit in the front since most of them had either been on private or group dates with the Prince, and will have more to be questioned on.

  
“First off!” Yamada began, pointing towards Mirio, who was sat on the end. The cameras flipped towards him, and he smiled brightly. “Come on up!”

  
Mirio strode over confidently, taking a seat beside Yamada. If he was nervous, you couldn’t tell. “What’s your name, little listener?” Yamada asked, and Mirio’s smile impossibly brightened as he went to answer the question.

  
“The name’s Mirio Toogata!” He said exuberantly, and Yamada commended him for his vibrant attitude.

  
“Tell us a little about yourself, Mirio,” Yamada asked, and Mirio thought over his answer for a bit before responding.

  
“Well, I’m a Three, even before coming here. I was in training to become a therapist, actually. A close friend of mine has a severe anxiety disorder, and I began studying psychology so I’d have a better understanding of what they were going through and how to help.” He explained, and Yamada nodded along, wearing a sympathetic expression. “I decided that I didn’t just want to help that one person, but multiple people as well while I had the chance, so I took it up as a future profession to strive towards!”

  
“Oh, how noble of you! Not many people would go to such lengths to help their friends in that way, so it’s a true show of character how far you were willing to go to help a friend in need!” Yamada said, and Mirio flushed.

  
“Oh, you flatter me, Hizashi! But really, it’s not much. I just didn’t want him to have to go through it alone.” He explained, and Yamada smiled brightly.

  
“You’ve got a good heart, Mirio.” He said genuinely, his smile softening a bit before returning to its former blinding nature. “You received the first private date with the Prince, yes?” He asked, teasingly waggling his eyebrows, making Mirio laugh.

  
“Yes, yes, I did.” He replied, his own smile rivaling even Yamada’s. “We watched a movie together and had ice cream afterwards.”

  
“Ooh, tell us the details!” Yamada said, leaning forwards in his seat in anticipation of the other blonde’s response.

  
“He offered for me to choose what movie we watched, so I naturally chose a comedy, of course.” Yamada laughed, muttering, “good choice” before allowing Mirio to continue. “After the movie was over—and must I say I’m thoroughly disappointed Prince Bakugou never laughed—we got ice cream. I ate birthday cake, with as many sweets layered on top as I desired. The food here is just too good to be true!”

  
Yamada laughed, agreeing heartily. “I must say, you’re not wrong! I’ve been spoiled rotten from the exquisite food here during my stay!” He said, and Mirio quickly nodded his head in agreement.

  
“I’m not sure how I’ll ever be able to go back to my mother’s cooking after this!” He joked, faking distress, and Yamada laughed yet again.

  
“Last question!” He called out after their laughter had subsided. “Tell us about your reasoning for entering the Selection.”

  
Once again, Mirio paused before answering. “It’d be a lie if I said I was already in love with Prince Bakugou. I hardly know him, for one!” He said, and Yamada nodded along to his response. “But I’ve harbored a small crush on him for many years, and this opportunity was too good to pass up! Leaving home would have been a lot harder, though, if I hadn’t been able to come here with my best friend. I’m definitely lucky!”

  
Yamada looked a little shocked at this, and his eyes strayed to the other 19 Selected. “You came here with your best friend, ey?” He asked, scanning the others. “Well, come on now, tell us who!”

  
“Oh!” Mirio said in surprise, realizing he still hadn’t said who he was referring to. He smiled sheepishly and laughed a bit. “Well, Tamaki, of course! We’ve been best friends ever since we were little!”

  
The cameras focused on the raven-haired boy instantly, and he looked to be on the verge of hyperventilating from all the attention. His head drooped, and he stared fearfully at his lap, nails biting into the flesh on the palm of his hand as he clenched his fists tightly.

  
“He’s kind of shy,” Mirio said, regaining the cameras attention. ‘Kind of’ was a serious understatement, but Yamada didn’t comment.

  
“Well, that’s all we have time for!” Yamada said, and Mirio smiled before standing up and returning to his seat. Momo smiled softly, standing before Yamada even had the chance to call for her, and walked to sit by his side. “How do you do, Miss? What’s your name?”

  
She sat up straight in her chair, directing a warm smile at Yamada. “My name is Momo Yaoyorozu, pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She said formally, and Yamada returned the smile times ten.

  
Momo had been one of the crowd favorites from the start. She came from a wealthy and respectable family, certainly had the looks-factor, and was well-spoken and charming all the same. She and Shoto had been neck-and-neck from the start based on looks alone, and Yamada figured not much would change after tonight. The thing he liked most about her was that she just seemed so genuine, and not as if she was playing nice to have a better shot at winning.

  
“The pleasure’s all mine, Momo!” Yamada said, smiling intensely, and Momo returned the expression with a polite smile of her own. “Tell us a bit about yourself.”

  
Her smile widened a bit, and she sat up straight in her chair, gazing at one of the cameras steadily. “My name is Momo Yaoyorozu, I’m nineteen years of age, and I’m a Two by birthright. My parents are both actors, and I recently started up my very own modeling career,” she said, and Yamada wasn’t surprised. She definitely had the looks to be one.

  
“Not surprising! You’re gorgeous!” Yamada said, and Momo blushed at the compliment. “How’d you originally get into modeling?”

  
Momo’s smile faded a bit, before coming back full force, if not a bit strained. “I was approached by an agent. Since my parents are already well known within the acting community, they have all kinds of connections, and I was offered a job. Soon that one job became two, and then three, and now I’ve made a career out of it.” She paused slightly before continuing. “Modeling isn’t exactly what I envisioned myself doing as I grew older, but I’m happy all the same.”

  
Yamada raised his eyebrows in a silent question. “Well, what would be your first choice if you had a pick of any career?”

  
Momo fidgeted slightly, glancing nervously at the camera. “Well,” she began hesitantly, and Yamada furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, sensing her discomfort. “I’ve always wanted to be a teacher, but that’s the job of a Three, so it’s merely a pipe dream. I enjoy modeling.” She added hastily at the end, almost as an afterthought.

  
“You seem like you’d be good with kids.” Yamada said kindly. He’d always wanted kids of his own, but he and Shouta always had such busy schedules that they had never gotten around to adopting. He was now fearing that it was too late in life to get a kid. “Even if you’re unable to teach a large group, I’m sure one day you’ll have some of your own to look after.”

  
Momo smiled, genuine. “Thank you, Hizashi.” She said softly.  
  


“Oh, don’t mention it. I’m only telling the truth.” He waved her thanks off modestly, but returned the soft smile anyways. “Now, tell us about your date.”

  
She chuckled lowly and Yamada quirked a brow. “Well, it was really nice. We had dinner together, although we ended up cutting it a little short,” she admitted, before continuing on her explanation. “We next went to the library, where the two of us ran into some of the other Selected, and actually ended up joining their little group while they hung out. It was really enjoyable.”

  
“I don’t know if I would consider the library to be the most romantic place for a date, but to each their own.” Yamada said, smirking at something behind Momo’s back. When she turned around, she caught the sight of Katsuki flipping Yamada off, where the cameras couldn’t see him. She burst out into a fit of giggles.

  
“So,” Yamada began once their laughter had finally quieted down. “Tell me about how you currently feel about the Prince.” This was a tough question for some of the Selected, especially at the beginning when they were only just starting to get to know the Prince. Yamada would guess that, at most, three of the Selected here could confidently say they were in love with the blonde. Probably less.

  
Momo hesitated, looking contemplative. Yamada held his breath, awaiting her response. “I think,” she said, unsure. “I think that the Prince is an amazing person. He holds a lot of stress and responsibilities on his shoulders, and that is what causes the so-called aggressive nature that is rumored to have. While he can be brash at times, he’s not a bad guy.

  
“I can’t say just yet that I love him. I’ve only truly known him for a couple weeks, and it’d be a lie if I said part of the reason I came here wasn’t because of my parent’s influence. But I’m glad I did come. Even if I don’t end up winning, I’ve gotten to see a new side of the royal family that makes me appreciate all that they do for this nation infinitely more than before.”

  
“Well said,” Yamada spoke, after he was sure the raven-haired girl was done. “On that eloquent note, let’s finish off this interview. Send over the brunette that was on your right, would you?”

  
After Momo had seated herself next to Mirio, Ochaco came over to where Yamada was. Her legs were visibly shaking. She sat down, smiling nervously, and introduced herself. “Hi. My name’s Ochaco Uraraka.”

  
Yamada smiled brightly to make up for her quivering voice. “Nice to meet you, Ochaco!” He said, then leaned over to whisper softly to her, “Don’t be nervous. You’re gonna do great.” Ochaco nodded her head timidly, and Yamada leaned back in his chair. “Introduce yourself!”

  
“Um, well,” her voice was quiet, and cracked a bit at the end. She cleared her throat and shut her eyes, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I was a, um, Seven. Before I came here.” She admitted, and Yamada nodded, looking sympathetic. “My parents worked in construction so I, as well, worked in that area. As you can see, I haven’t built much muscle mass, so I wasn’t very good at it.”

  
She chuckled awkwardly to herself, and Yamada urged her to continue. “But, despite our low incomes and long, unfair hours, we’re a happy family. I’m just content to have them in my life. I don’t need anything else.” Yamada cooed at the statement, and Ochaco flushed, smiling softly. “But I don’t just want to win the Selection for me, I want to win for them. If I win, they’re lives are going to be so much easier. I want that for them. They deserve it.”

  
“You must be extremely close to your parents, huh?” Yamada asks softly, and Ochaco nods her head vigorously.

  
“I miss them a lot.” She admitted sadly, and Yamada placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She returned the gesture with a watery smile. “But, even though I miss them, I don’t regret being here. Having this opportunity. I like the Prince—a _lot_. Losing doesn’t even feel like an option to me.”

  
Her saddened expression turned into a determined one, and Yamada smiled. “I wish you the best of luck, Ochaco.” He said earnestly, and she returned his smile. “Tell us, what’s your favorite thing about the Prince?”

  
Ochaco thought back to her few interactions between the Prince. She hadn’t had a group or private date with him yet, minus the shopping trip, so there wasn’t exactly much to go off of. “Honestly? I find his aggressive tendencies to be very entertaining to watch when you’re not on the receiving end.” She giggled conspiratorially, and Yamada burst out laughing when Katsuki shouted an affronted “OI!” at her comment.

  
Once they stopped laughing, Ochaco continued. “All joking aside, I like how independent he is. You’d think someone being raised in the environment would grow up to be some spoiled brat, but the Prince knows how to take care of himself. If he was suddenly thrown out of the palace, and forced to live as an Eight, while he might struggle at first, I think he’d be able to make it out there.” She explained, and Katsuki was a little surprised. He was honestly flattered she thought that much of him.

  
“His Highness has always been stubbornly independent, really,” Yamada said teasingly, and Katsuki glared his way when they made eye contact.

  
Ochaco snickered slightly, earning herself a glare of her own, which she pretended not to notice. After her and Yamada finished up their conversation, she was sent back to her seat and told Izuku to walk over next.

  
The green-haired boy was a visible mess. He was trembling all over, and sighed in relief as he sat down. He didn’t exactly trust his legs to carry him any farther. “Hey there, listener! What’s your name?” Yamada asked enthusiastically, but his voice sounded like it was underwater to Izuku’s ears.

  
“H-h-h-hi, m-my name i-i-is Izuku M-Midoriya,” Izuku stutters out, his face flushing in embarrassment. He looks to the side, and Ochaco shoots him an encouraging smile. He sucks in deep lungful’s of air, attempting to compose himself, although the shaking in his hands won’t seem to go away.

  
“Nice to meetcha, Izuku!” Yamada says brightly, glossing over his excessive stuttering. “Can you tell us a bit about yourself?”

  
Izuku took another deep breath, smiling, albeit a little stiffly. “B-b-before c-coming here, I w-was a S-six.” He admitted, trying to slow down his breathing. “I u-usually w-worked in housekeeping o-o-or waitressing, b-but really I-I just did a-a-any job offered to m-me.”

  
“What’s your family like?” Yamada supplied, and Izuku took deep, steadying breaths. No way he was about to start hyperventilating on live television. He tried to convince himself that it was just him and Yamada there, but he couldn’t help but think of the millions of people who would be watching this.

  
“I l-l-live alone with my m-mom. Sh-she’s really sweet, a-and supportive of m-m-me through everything. Th-there’s also this little girl, b-b-back home, n-named Eri, th-that I’m c-close to.” He smiled at the thought of Eri, but the expression fell away when he remembered how he met her. “Sh-she’s an Eight, a-and I m-m-met her in the b-back of an alley, w-where she n-nearly s-s-starved to d-death.”

  
Yamada frowned, patting Izuku’s back as he took deep, shuddering breaths at the memory. “W-we’ve been close e-ever since, and whenever I-I have the ch-chance to, I bring her f-f-food and m-money.” Izuku smiled wistfully, wondering yet again how his mom and Eri were doing while he was away. “E-E-Eri’s only e-eight or nine, s-so I offered for her t-to stay w-w-with my m-mom while I’m aw-away.”

  
This stuttering of his was seriously starting to annoy Izuku. He didn’t always have a stutter, but whenever he got nervous enough, he tended to slip up. Of course his stutter, which he’d managed to stave off for the most part for the past _three years_ , would suddenly come back again with a vengeance while he was on _live TV._ He couldn’t have been more mortified.

  
Yamada’s eyes softened marginally as Izuku talked about Eri. “She sounds like such a sweetheart!” He gushed and then leaned forwards, shifting Izuku’s mic slightly so he wouldn’t be heard. “My husband and I are looking into adoption. If you and your mother are unable to properly support her, I’d personally be interested in taking her in. I think Shouta’s got his eye on another kid as well.”

  
He chuckled softly to himself, before leaning back into his own space after fixing the mic. He smiled brightly, and Izuku returned the gesture, nodding imperceptibly. “Now, do tell us about your one-on-one date with the Prince.” He said, smiling conspiratorially.

  
Izuku had been expecting this question, especially since the others before him—minus Ochaco who obviously hadn’t been on a date yet—had been asked it as well. Still, his face erupted into a fiery blush as the memories flashed through his mind. He lifted his hands to cover his red cheeks, and saw through his fingers as Yamada’s feral grin turned devilish.

  
The greenette certainly wasn’t prepared to admit in front of such a big audience that he and Katsuki had kissed. It was entirely up to the blonde whether or not they were disclosing that private moment to the public. Alas, another blonde took it upon himself to share for them, and Izuku feared fainting from all the blood rushing to his head.

  
“THEY KISSED!” Denki shouted, and Izuku reminded himself to kill the blonde later. Yamada’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, and he looked at Izuku incredulously.

  
“Is this true?” He asked, although now he was looking somewhere over Izuku’s shoulder. When the green-haired boy turned around, he saw Katsuki nod his head stiffly. He swore he saw a tint of pink covering the blonde’s cheeks, but Katsuki turned away with a scowl before Izuku was able to get a good look.

  
“Y-y-yeah w-we d-d-did.” Izuku admitted bashfully. Yamada squealed in excitement, clapping his hands together and sitting on the edge of his seat.

  
“Oh, spill all the details, Izuku!” Yamada shouted, and Izuku winced, smiling sheepishly.  
“W-well, we were t-t-talking, a-and all, a-a-and then w-we just kind of sat th-there in a c-c-comforting silence, a-and he was l-looking at m-me, and then he m-m-moved closer and asked i-if he c-could k-k-kiss me, a-and I n-n-nodded, and then h-he—h-h-he—” Izuku stopped there, pausing for breath, sure his face was a blushing mess. Not that it wasn’t already.

  
Yamada wagged his eyebrows teasingly. “Well, is he a good kisser?” He asked jokingly, and Izuku let out a stiff chuckle, although his shoulders were still a little tense.

  
“G-g-great, a-actually,” he admitted before he had time to process his words. A small noise of embarrassment slipped out of his throat, and he clamped his jaw shut. “I-I-I’m gonna sh-shut up n-now.” He said, wallowing. “Th-thank y-you for h-having me, H-H-Hizashi!”

  
Yamada said his farewells to the nervous wreck of a boy, and when Izuku was seated, Shoto came up to Yamada’s side. His posture was stiff, and his expression was blank. Yamada frowned slightly. “Introduce yourself, kid,” he said, and Shoto nodded along. “Tell us some interesting facts about you.”

  
“My name is Shoto Todoroki. My father was born as a Four, and began his own business, which he built from the ground up. As it became more successful, he managed to buy his way up to becoming a Two, and married a wealthy Two as well; my mother. I am currently the heir to his corporation, or as some may know it, Endeavor Industries.” He described in a monotone voice. Yamada couldn’t help but feel like the introduction almost sounded _scripted._

  
Odd.

  
“Do you have any hobbies, or interests?” Yamada inquired, and Shoto looked at him quizzically, before pausing to think about the question.

  
“I suppose I enjoy chess well enough.” He said, the same tone of voice as before. Overly polite and a bit repetitive.

  
“W-well, Shoto,” Yamada fumbled for a second. “Tell us what you would do if the Prince wound up choosing you?”

  
Shoto thought about it, staring at his hands as he contemplated the question. “I’d certainly be happy, if I won. I’d simultaneously manage to find love and make my father proud at the same time.” It almost sounded like a decent answer, if Yamada hadn’t picked up on Shoto’s slightly bitter tone when he spoke of his father. Other than that, his eyes remained completely devoid of emotion.

  
Yamada forced a smile, silently wondering about this mysterious man before him. “I wish you the best of luck, Shoto,” Yamada said, and Shoto smiled—only slightly—when Yamada said his name. The blonde wondered why that was. He wondered _lots_ of things about Shoto Todoroki, it would seem. “How was your date with the Prince?”

  
“It was nice. We walked around the garden together, and talked. He makes for nice company.” Shoto said tonelessly, and Yamada fought off the urge to narrow his eyes. All of his answers would seem perfectly reasonable. It’s just the fact that his face is expressionless when he delivers them. It’s like his words and his tone are telling two different stories, and Yamada isn’t sure which one to believe.

  
“That’s good to hear!” Yamada said enthusiastically. “Well, I think it’s just about time for a commercial break!” The blonde man faced the cameras, cutting his time with Shoto just a little bit short. “We’ll be back on air after this five minute break!”

  
After the cameras were off, Yamada slumped down in his chair, sighing slightly. Shoto shot off his seat, walking over to where Izuku was sitting and talking with Ochaco, Tenya slowly approaching the pair as well.

  
“That was nerve-racking,” Izuku admitted, and Ochaco nodded along in agreement. Shoto merely shrugged. “I was shaking so much! And, oh god, my _stutte_ r.”

  
“Not everyone adjusts to this level of attention easily.” Shoto reminds him, but Izuku still looks tense. “I was raised in a similar environment. I had everyone’s eyes on me all the time. If you win, that’s what it’ll be like for you. Right now, it might seem scary, but with time, and practice, it’ll get easier.”

  
“If you feel panicked,” Ochaco adds on, attempting to soothe Izuku further. “Try to think of it as if you’re talking to someone you’re close to. Forget us over here, and Hizashi, and the whole audience watching at home. You talked about your mom, and that little girl—Eri. Picture it as if you’re talking to them.”

  
Izuku nods his head frantically, trying to absorb the comforting and helpful advice. “Th-thanks guys. You’re all the best,” he says earnestly, and is met with three kind smiles in return. He feels tears prick the corners of his eyes, and furiously blinks them away. “Shit, you guys are gonna make me cry!”

  
“You cry too easily,” Shoto teased, and Izuku glared at him half-heartedly.

  
“Cameras back on in 30 seconds!” Someone on set called out, and the Selected rushed back into their former seats, straightening out imaginary wrinkles in their suits or dresses, or smoothing out any kinks in their hair. “5, 4, 3, 2, 1, and we’re live!”

  
“Welcome back, little listeners! Now that we’ve all had a small break, let’s get back to our interviews, shall we?” He smiled blindingly and beckoned Hitoshi over. The violet-haired boy walked stiffly to his side, taking a seat in the plush chair beside the blonde. “What’s your name, young man?”

  
“Hitoshi Shinso.” He said stiffly, although Yamada didn’t comment on his tense tone. Instead, he—of course—jumped straight for the topic Hitoshi _least_ wanted to discuss. Especially in front of hundreds of thousands of people.

  
“Right! You’re the first Eight to have ever made it into the Selection!” Yamada said excitedly, and Hitoshi attempted an awkward smile. He figured it probably came off as more of a grimace. “How does palace life differ from that of a former Eight?”

  
“Immensely,” Hitoshi said shortly, before elaborating further. “I lived on the streets, and in the back of alleyways. My meals often consisted of leftover scraps that rich folk tossed out. Perfectly good food, mind you. They just don’t seem to appreciate what they’ve got. Although, I suppose there is such thing as too _much_ food. I still feel a little queasy after palace meals.”

  
Yamada quirked an eyebrow. “Queasy? You’d think since its better quality, it would ease your stomach.” He seemed genuinely confused, and Hitoshi sighed before explaining.

  
“Right, well, yeah, the food here is much better than what I’m used to. That’s not the issue. It’s just the serving size. Back home, I’d be lucky to get a meal every other day. Now I’m eating three full course meals, every single day. It’s something I have to ease into.” He said, and Yamada nodded along, understanding flashing in his eyes. “I spent a majority of my first night here yakking half my body weight into the toilet.”

  
Yamada frowned deeply at the admission. “You should ask some of the chefs to give you smaller portions,” he offered, and Hitoshi silently nodded his head. “Speaking of food,” Yamada continued, and Hitoshi looked at him, a silent question on his face. “I heard from a little birdie that you and the Prince fed some local Eights while on your date?”

  
“This is the second time in one week someone has referred to Aizawa as a ‘little birdie’, and the man couldn’t be further from it.” Hitoshi joked.

  
“How’d you know I was talking about Aizawa?” Yamada pouted slightly.

  
“I have my methods.” Hitoshi smirked. “And yes, Prince Bakugou and I bought bowls of ramen and fed the homeless living in that area. I know what they’re going through. They need it.”

  
Yamada beamed at him. “You’re a good guy,” he said earnestly. “Aizawa also mentioned he saw cat fur on your suit that same day. Care to elaborate?”

  
“That man is clearly as obsessed with cats as I am if he managed to notice that minute detail. And, I heard the sound of kittens, and followed.” He said nonchalantly, shrugging.

  
“I would like to add,” Katsuki said, stepping in suddenly. “That he led me on for nearly a mile to find those cats. He’s an alien, I’ll swear by it.”

  
“Wow, I didn’t you know you had a sense of humor.” Hitoshi said dryly, and Katsuki glared, although the look didn’t hold its usual bite.

  
“I came out to have a good time and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.” Katsuki retorted, and Hitoshi snorted.

  
He shooed the blonde off. “Congrats, you’re a comedian. Stop interrupting my interview.” He said, his face void of emotion.

  
“Yeah, yeah, I’m going,” Katsuki yelled, and Hitoshi smirked slightly to himself.

  
“As entertaining as this is to watch,” Yamada said with an amused smirk as he watched Katsuki huff and pout off set, and Hitoshi lean back into his seat with a smug look. “I’m kind of on a time crunch here. Come on over, blondie!”

  
“Why is it that I only get called ‘blondie’ by other blondes?” Denki grumbled as he stood and walked towards Yamada, causing Hitoshi to snort.

  
“Hey, there, little listener!” Yamada greeted enthusiastically as Denki sat beside him. “What’s your name?”

  
Denki grinned an electric smile, before beginning to introduce himself. “Hi, Hizashi! My name’s Denki Kaminari!” His tone was just as exuberant as Yamada’s if not more, and it made the older man grin widely. He enjoyed talking to others who shared a similar passion to his own.

  
“Nice to meet you, Denki! Tell us a bit about yourself,” Yamada said, and Denki pondered over what he should share.

  
“I’m honestly not sure where to start,” the blonde said unsurely. “For one, I’m 19, and a former Four. My parents own a small-time business, which my older sister is already set to inherit when the time comes.” He explained. “I have a few hobbies, like drawing. I’m not very good, though.”

  
Denki awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. “What’s your sister and parents like?” Yamada questions innocently, although Denki tenses up at the line of questioning.

  
He was never very close to his sister, and he entirely blamed himself for that. She always tried to get close, but he pushed her away because he was jealous their parents preferred her over him. Even though it wasn’t her fault, a part of him always resented her for that.

  
And then there were his parents, who were borderline neglectful. They fed Denki, clothed him, put a roof over his head. They did take care of him, but only in the literal sense. They never asked about how he was doing, or how school was going, and they never made an effort to take time away from their day to spend it with him. His mom and dad raised him all his life, and yet he hardly even knows them.

  
“O-oh, well, you know,” Denki started, laughing tensely and forcing a smile. “They’re, um, nice, and all.” Yamada gave him a questioning look at the response, but Denki only shifted uncomfortably in his seat, refusing to say any more on the specific topic.

  
Yamada was quick to change the subject, and Denki was extremely grateful. “Well, why don’t you share with us what your favorite thing about the Prince is?” While the change in topic did seem a little abrupt, Denki felt a lot more at ease answering questions about Katsuki rather than his family.

  
“That’s a tough one. There’s so many great things to choose from,” Denki said with a sly wink, and Yamada grinned back at him. There was a slight pause afterwards as Denki thought over his answer. “I’d say I admire his sense of duty. Based on how he talks about living here, I can imagine that constantly being cooped up in this palace could get miserable after a while.

  
“Outside of here, everyone has an option on what they want to do with their life, but he doesn’t. His future has been written in stone since the day he was born. And while I know for a fact it used to aggravate him to no end, he stays here with no complaints, because he knows that his role in this world is important to so many more people than just himself. And he stays for them.”

  
Yamada brings his hand up to wipe away a fake tear. “That was beautiful,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Most people don’t realize it, but His Highness is very loyal to his future subjects. And you just summed up that devotion perfectly, Denki, thank you.”

  
Denki smiled softly, genuinely. “I was merely giving my honest opinion, no need to thank me. Thank Prince Bakugou for being so faithful to Shizuoka and all of its inhabitants.”

  
When Denki turned to look where Katsuki was standing, the ash blonde seemed to be fighting to keep the grin off of his face. Denki beamed at the sight, turning back to face Yamada. “This is our last question before our current time together is up,” Yamada stated, and Mina mentally prepared herself for her own interview. “You had a group date with the Prince, correct?”

  
Denki smirked slyly. “I’m guessing you want all the juicy details?” The blonde asked, and Yamada chuckled.

  
“You bet I do.”

  
“I didn’t spend a lot of time with him, honestly, but the time I did have with him was amazing. He’s such a tease.” Denki joked. “When he announced that there was going to be an elimination during our date, I was panicking like you wouldn’t believe.”

  
Denki chuckled nervously, and Yamada seemed to remember something at the admission. “Oh, that’s right! That was the first elimination since the day he met with everyone, right?” Denki nodded. “What did he do to get eliminated? Or was it simply because they weren’t compatible?”

  
Denki shifted a bit in his chair. “Well,” he began. “Prince Bakugou told us that he lied, and when he told us not to do the same, he specifically mentioned not lying about the other Selected. I presume Aoyama said something untrue about one of the others on the date to increase their chances of being eliminated instead. But, none of us were told the exact details. I don’t know who he was talking about or what he was saying.”

  
Yamada narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to picture this ‘Aoyama’ in his head. He had already memorized the names and faces of the 20 Selected still here, only asking for introductions for the people back home who didn’t know. Yamada could vaguely imagine blonde hair and blue eyes, but he couldn’t picture what the man precisely looked like.

  
“Thank you for your time, Denki,” Yamada said kindly, smiling widely, and Denki got up to return to his seat. Mina came over next, grinning enthusiastically as she sat beside of Yamada.

  
“Hi! I’m Mina Ashido! Nice to meetcha Mr. Hizashi!” She said happily, sticking out a casual hand for him to shake, which he did without a moment’s hesitation.

  
“Heya, Mina, it’s truly a pleasure.” He said, and Mina’s smile widened. “Tell us some interesting things about you.” He offered, and Mina didn’t hesitate even a moment before she was already talking.

  
“Well, I come from a _really_ big family. Six kids, in fact, and I’m the oldest. It’s pretty hectic, most times, but I love them all to death. I’m especially close to my younger sister, Hanako. She’s an absolute sweetheart, I swear to it.” She said fondly. “I come from a family of Fives, and I got into dancing when I was really little. I have connections to someone who owns a studio, and since I couldn’t afford lessons, they offered for me to come in there and practice when there weren’t any lessons going on.”

  
“When did you start dancing?” Yamada asks, and Mina’s eyes seem to light up with passion. Clearly, he’s asking the right questions, because she seems especially excited about this line of questioning.

  
“I’ve been dancing ever since I was three! I’m trained in all different kinds; hip hop, contemporary, ballet, tap, ballroom dancing, et cetera. Dancing’s been my passion my whole life, so I guess I just got lucky with my caste placement. Although, I guess most people wouldn’t consider being a Five to be ‘ _lucky_ ’. But you’ve gotta look at the good side of things, y’know?”

  
“I don’t disagree in the slightest, Mina,” Yamada agreed immediately with a blinding grin. “I wish everyone could have the same open-minded optimism you possess.”

  
“Well, it’s not something that someone can so easily control. It’s just how the brain perceives a certain situation. If there’s a glass half-filled with water sitting on a table, some people perceive it to be half-full, and some say it’s half-empty.” She explains nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders at the end of her spiel. “We shouldn’t look at pessimism in such a negative light, because it’s almost like a habit. And we all know how hard those are to break.”

  
“A very insightful observation, Mina,” Yamada commended, and Mina chuckled, smiling brightly. “Thank you for sharing.”

  
“Oh, of course! I love talking about these kinds of things,” she admitted, a smile lighting up her features. “And I know what you love talking about as well. _Gossip._ ”

  
Yamada huffed slightly at the teasing remark, although he couldn’t say she was necessarily wrong. “You got me there. I’m sure many others share my curiosity over your date with the Prince. Care to share the details?”

  
Mina laughed, although her cheeks were tinted a rosy color. “It was _supposed_ to be where we did each other’s makeup as like, you know, a joke? And I can’t remember who started it, but we both ended up covered head to toe in a different assortment of paints that we had begun flinging on one another. While we both looked like an absolute mess afterwards, it was totally worth it.”

  
Mina was laughing hard at the end of her retelling of their date, and Yamada was quick to join in. “Sounds like you two certainly had a good time,” Yamada said, after his laughter had subsided.

  
“Oh, definitely! I haven’t been on a date in ages, honestly, and I forgot how much fun they can be when you’re with the right person.” She smiles wistfully, glancing slightly back towards where she knows Katsuki is standing, and watching.

  
“Already referring to the Prince as the ‘right person’, hmm?” Yamada asked teasingly, and the look in Mina’s eyes softened minutely.

  
“Well, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think he was, right?” She asked, and Yamada smiled at the response.

  
“Well, you know I love a good story, Mina. Tell us about what specifically compelled you to sign up for the Selection.” Yamada questioned.

  
Mina positively beamed. “I’ve always had quite the attraction towards the Prince, I’ll admit. Honestly, who hasn’t? My sister had tried to talk me out of signing up, and I suppose I went a little overboard. I ended up ranting to her and promising that if I were to get chosen, I’d end this with a ring on my finger.” She chuckled nervously, and Yamada’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

  
“That’s quite the promise you’ve made your sister, there.” He said, and Mina sighed in resignation, before breathing deeply and giving the blonde man a determined look.

  
“I plan to uphold that promise.” She said fiercely, and Yamada smiled at the admission.

  
“I wish you the best of luck. Thank you for your time here with us today, Mina.” He said softly, and she nodded her head before resuming to her seat beside of Denki and Eijiro, the latter of which was standing and making his way towards Yamada already.

  
Eijiro’s face lit up with a smile as he sat, one to rival even Yamada’s own grin. “What’s your name, listener?” Yamada asked in his usual cheerful voice, and Eijiro responded just as enthusiastically.

  
“My name’s Eijiro Kirishima!” He introduced, and Yamada nodded, smiling.

  
“Tell us a bit about yourself, Eijiro,” he said, and Eijiro took a hesitant breath before beginning his spiel.

  
“Well, I was a Seven before coming here. Like Ochaco, I work in construction, although my mom is too ill to work. My dad passed away when I was younger so it’s just me and her left.” He smiled sadly, and Yamada gave him a sympathetic look, gently patting his back.

  
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said somberly, and Eijiro smiled stiffly at the sentiment. “I imagine that must’ve have been really hard on you and your mother.”

  
Eijiro nodded. “It was. I still miss him, but I’d like to believe he’s in a better place now.” Eijiro said with misty eyes, and then blinked the forming tears away rapidly. “S-sorry.”

  
“Don’t apologize for feeling grief, Eijiro. It’s not something that is under your control.” Eijiro nodded, and Yamada smiled softly. “On a lighter note, do you mind telling us about how your date with the Prince went?”

  
Eijiro sighed slightly in relief at the change in topic. He had been the one to bring up his dad, but he didn’t want that to be all they talked about. He certainly didn’t want to start crying on live TV. “Our date was amazing! We went horse-back riding—which he’s amazing at, by the way—and then we had a picnic. I was honestly shocked he wanted to go on his second private date with _me_ of all people, but I’m not complaining.”

  
“Who would?” Yamada joked, and Eijiro chuckled lightly. “What are your feelings for the Prince?” He asked, and Eijiro’s answer was surprisingly immediate.

  
“I love him.” His eyes widened at the statement, and then his face and neck turned an unnatural shade of red. “I-I mean—”

  
“Love is certainly a strong word,” Yamada said, and Eijiro hid his face in his hands. When Yamada glanced over at Katsuki, the ash blonde didn’t seem to be faring much better. “Especially this early on in the competition.”

  
“I-I know but—” Eijiro took a deep breath to calm his nerves. “I do love him.” He admitted quietly, a determined look filling his misty crimson eyes. “I know that for certain.”

  
Yamada practically beamed at the redhead, who hesitantly returned the smile. “I don’t know how you’ve managed it,” Yamada said teasingly, eyes trained behind Eijiro’s head, on Katsuki, who was fanning his face helplessly to fight off an ever-present red flush to his cheeks. “But you’ve somehow managed to fluster the Prince.”

  
Eijiro’s head whipped around at lightning speed, and Yamada started cackling as Katsuki only proceeded to grow even _redder_ , if it was possible. The cameras focused in on the blonde’s blushing face, much to Katsuki’s chagrin, and he whipped his head around to hide them from the cameramen.

  
“Aw, I think we’ve embarrassed him enough for today guys,” Yamada said, his laughter dying down slowly. “Thank you for joining us today Eijiro. It was a pleasure talking to you.”

  
Eijiro stood up, smiling brilliantly. “Thank you for having me!” As he sat down, the final candidate came over for an interview, and Yamada was met with yet another blinding—and surprisingly infectious—grin.

  
“Hi, I’m Hanta Sero,” the boy greeted casually as he sat down. Yamada’s eyes were immediately drawn to his arm, which was currently wrapped up in a sling. Hanta noticed his gaze, and smiled sheepishly. “I got a little careless on my date with Prince Bakugou.” He admitted, and Yamada raised a questioning eyebrow.

  
“What were you two doing that caused you to end up injured?” He asked, and Hanta was quick to respond.

  
“Obstacle course! We’d been doing it for a while, and I was so tired by the end that I tripped over a hurdle. I tried to catch myself with my arm, which didn’t turn out as I planned it, as you can see.” He chuckled lowly, and Yamada had to hold back a snort.

  
“Did he carry you to the infirmary?” Yamada asked with a wink, and Hanta started laughing.

  
“You’re not the first person to have asked me that.” He said, giving Denki a pointed look. The boy in question snorted behind his hand, but looked away, feigning innocence. “He did _not_ carry me, I’ll have you know. I hurt my wrist, not my ankle.”

  
“You still should’ve asked him to. No harm in trying, right?” Yamada said in a light, joking tone.

  
“So I’ve been told.” Hanta said with a light chuckle.

  
“So, tell me,” Yamada began, sitting on the edge of his seat. “What would you do if the Prince ended up choosing you?”

  
“If he proposed, I’d probably act all chill and be all like ‘ _yeah, sure_ ’, and then when he leaves I’d just start screaming. Or crying. Or both.” Yamada laughed at his answer, and Hanta was quick to join him. “As much as it sounds like I’m joking,” he added in between laughs. “I’m really not.”

  
“Honestly, that’s how I felt when my husband proposed to me,” Yamada admitted, and Hanta burst out into a new round of laughter. “Although I didn’t have the common sense enough to wait until _after_ he’d left to start screaming with joy.”

  
“Oh, come on, who would genuinely be able to keep their composure for long during that kind of situation!” Hanta said, and Yamada readily agreed.

  
“Someone who isn’t a shrieking cockatoo, for one,” Aizawa said dryly off to the side, and Hanta felt tears forming in his eyes from how hard he was laughing. Yamada pouted and began protesting against his statement.

  
“Well, the segment’s nearly over,” Yamada said, a deep pout still settled on his lips. “And we’ve still got to interview His Highness before times up. Thank you for your time, Hanta, I enjoyed having you here!”

  
Hanta bowed his head slightly, trying and failing to fight the grin that was slowly taking over his features as he made his way back to his seat. “I would now like to welcome,” Yamada said loudly, pausing for dramatic effect. “The one and only, Prince Katsuki Bakugou!”

  
Katsuki walked over to sit beside of Yamada, his face kept in its normally neutral expression. “Hey, Hizashi,” he said dryly. “Thanks for having me.”

  
“It’s my pleasure, as always!” Yamada said excitedly, and Katsuki imperceptibly shifted further away from the loud man. “How’s your Selection going thus far?”

  
“It’s good.” Katsuki admitted truthfully. “I’ve met quite a few wonderful people among my candidates, and I’m excited to get to know all of them better.”

  
“I’m figuring I won’t get an answer, but still I’ve gotta ask. Do you have a favorite so far of the Selected? Maybe someone who you find especially attractive or someone you feel really compatible with?”

  
Katsuki’s eyes skimmed the 20 candidates sitting off to the side, and his eyes stuck on one in particular a little longer than was comfortable. He ripped his gaze away from them and back to Yamada. “So far, I don’t have much of a favorite.” He lied, and by the narrowing of his eyes, he could tell Yamada saw right through him.

  
Yamada forced a pout. “Aw, that’s too bad.” He said sadly, and Katsuki gave him an unimpressed look. “Earlier, Denki was talking to us about one of the candidates named Aoyama getting eliminated because he lied to you. Do you mind telling us about what he said?” He asked, and Katsuki shrugged.

  
“There’s no harm.” He said nonchalantly, before continuing. “He told me that Denki had been especially cold and discourteous towards him since Yuga got to spend more time with me than he did. I had been observing everyone’s behaviors the entire time, and when Denki and Yuga had grouped up, he wasn’t displaying the mannerisms Yuga described to me. Add that to the indisputable look in his eyes and his tense body language, and I put two and two together. I’d like to believe I’m a pretty good judge of character, and what Yuga was telling me couldn’t have been true. So I dismissed him.”

  
“Brutal, but fair,” Yamada said sympathetically. “Denki’s lucky you caught on to his dishonesty, yeah?”

  
“I wasn’t planning to dismiss him anyways. If Yuga hadn’t disrespected me and his fellow candidate, I had someone else already in mind of who I wanted to eliminate.” Katsuki said in a hard tone.

  
“I’m guessing they’re no longer here, either?” Yamada asked, and Katsuki shook his head. “Only two weeks in and you’ve already managed fifteen eliminations. You’ve nearly doubled the pace your father was going at. How were you able to decide on who you dismissed?”

  
Katsuki pondered the question for a moment before responding. “For some of my eliminations, it seemed obvious on what I should do. Some of the candidates I personally found to even be a little annoying. Some I could see myself being possible friends with, but I couldn’t imagine marrying them.” He explained, and Yamada nodded, before looking panicked.

  
“Oh, would you look at the time! I believe that’s all the time we have for today, folks!” He said, looking directly at the cameras as he spoke. He then turned to Katsuki. “Thank you for joining us here tonight, Your Highness.” He faced the cameras once again. “Good night everyone, and I’ll see you all next week!”

  
The cameras shut off, and the room was filled with a heavy silence. Yamada sighed and sagged back in his chair, smiling tiredly. Katsuki turned away from the fellow blonde, and focused his attention instead on the Selected. He awkwardly cleared his throat.

  
“You all did great.” He began, and some of them smiled at him. “Next Friday, the rest of you will get your own interview, so you might want to prepare yourselves for that. I need something for you all to be able to talk about during the Report, so I’m going to try and take all of you on either a private date or group date within the next week.

  
“Tomorrow, I’ll be going on two private dates, with Tamaki Amajiki and Tenya Iida respectively. Try to relax as much as you can this week, since most of you will probably be pretty stressed out by the time Friday comes around.” They all nodded along to his words, and he sighed in relief. “Good night,” he finished with, before walking out of the studio and back to the quiet comfort of his own room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I forget, if anyone has any suggestions for what Tamaki's gift to Katsuki could be, please say so. Most (*cough* all *cough*) of my friends are girls, so I don't really know many gifts to get for guys. I usually just buy candles or jewelry :T
> 
> Hitoshi figured out Denki has dyslexia and dyscalculia. Sorry if my explanation for those two disabilities wasn't very accurate. I don't have a good source to base off of.
> 
> I am ALWAYS taking suggestions for who Katsuki can go on dates with and what they can do on those dates. If you leave a suggestion for someone to go on the date, if you could also give an idea of what they could do on the date together, that would be greatly appreciated.
> 
> I'm not sure if I'll get around to explaining this exact detail at a later date, so for anyone who was wondering about why Todoroki smiled when Yamada called him 'Shoto', it's because he actually prefers being called that (in this fic, this isn't canon) rather than being referred to by his father's name. He's just not great with social interactions, so he feels a little uncomfortable asking people to call him by his given name, and waits for them to ask him if they can instead.
> 
> Next chapter will be the next two dates, and probably just some cute interactions between the Selected, too. The chapter after next, I think is going to be the chapter for Mitsuki's birthday banquet. In that chapter we're going to be introducing a new character into the story, so have fun speculating about who it is ;P My hope is that he's going to play a fairly prominent part in this fic, but we'll see if I can find a good enough excuse for him to be around more often
> 
> Anyways, as always here's the list of the remaining 20 Selected as well as their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> Do you guys prefer when I keep the information for who's going to be going on the dates a secret, or is it better if I say who's getting what dates and when? For example, saying at the end notes who would be getting dates the next chapter if there are any.
> 
> Speaking of dates, I know I've asked for requests, BUT I need to focus on those who were sitting in the back row for the Report to be going on the dates, rather than those in the front row (minus Ochaco, who already has a date coming up soon anyways). If you want to leave a preference on who Katsuki goes on a date with, it would be preferable if you could choose from one of the following ten: Tamaki, Nejire, Monoma, Tetsutetsu, Shiozaki, Iida, Tokoyami, Jiro, Camie, or Inasa.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this extra lengthy chapter, and I'll be sure to have a new one out on Tuesday, as usual :p


	15. Morpho Butterflies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, a new--albeit short--chapter ^^
> 
> This chapter has Katsuki's date with one of my f a v o r i t e characters, Tamaki, so I enjoyed writing it, even if his scene was a little short ^w^
> 
> Anyways, enjoy the chapter!

Katsuki had been on the hunt for Aizawa all afternoon. The man in question had seemingly disappeared right after lunch, and the blonde couldn’t for the life of him find Aizawa anywhere.

  
“I fucking give up,” he muttered to himself, turning around to go back to his room. A scowl found its way onto his face as he marched back in the direction he had just come from.

  
He was halfway there when, who to turn the corner except the man himself, Shouta Aizawa. He was flanked, surprisingly enough, by both Denki Kaminari and Hitoshi Shinso, but Katsuki decidedly ignored the two as he stomped over to the older man, scowl deepening.

  
“Aizawa, we need to fucking talk,” he snapped, and Aizawa gave him a bored look, cutting off whatever he had been previously saying. “Where the fuck have you been?”

  
“Language, Your Highness,” Aizawa responded in a monotone voice, and Katsuki bared his teeth. “What do you want?”

  
“I need you to relay a message to my father.” The blonde replied, then glanced at Denki and Hitoshi, staring at him and Aizawa curiously. “Fuck off, extras, this is private.”

  
Denki smiled nervously, and grabbed Hitoshi’s wrist. “Come on, ‘Toshi,” the blonde said, dragging Hitoshi along behind him. “Let’s go to the parlor.”

  
“Alright,” Hitoshi grumbled, willingly trailing after the blonde, who smiled exuberantly at him.

  
Aizawa waited until the two had walked a safe enough distance away, then turned back towards Katsuki. “What message?”

  
“It’s a long story. But I know the old man will take it more seriously if he hears it from you.” Katsuki said brashly, and dragged Aizawa into an empty room. “We need to prepare our troops to attack Akuyaku.”

  
Aizawa gave him an exasperated look. “What the hell are you talking about?” He asked with a bored tone, and Katsuki glared fiercely.

  
“The alliance is a fucking ruse.” He said with a sharp tone, and Aizawa gave him a critical look. “They already know we’re not going to accept. It’s all a ploy to get us to allow some of their officials inside the palace, and collect critical information on us. When we don’t accept, they’ll attack. We need to make the first move, before it’s too late.”

  
“So why don’t we just accept?” Aizawa asked again, cocking a brow at the seething blonde.

  
“I thought you were fucking smarter than this, old man.” Katsuki replied harshly, although Aizawa didn’t outwardly respond. “If I marry one of ‘em, they’ll kill me and take control. We don’t need a fucking tyrant at the helm. So, will you relay the fucking warning or not?”

  
“I will.” Aizawa said stoically. “I’ll do what I can to convince him. He’s still hell-bent on going after this alliance.”

  
Katsuki nodded slightly at the older man, before gritting his teeth, and biting out a stiff, “Thank you.” Aizawa smirked slightly, before the expression dropped and he left the room. Katsuki sighed, unclenching his fists, and leaving soon after, heading back to his room to prepare for his date.

* * *

There was a firm knock at the door, before Katsuki was met with a pair of anxious pair of black eyes. The blonde cleared his throat, and shifted uncomfortably where he stood. “You wanted to meet here?” He asked gruffly, and Tamaki nodded almost imperceptibly.

  
“Yeah,” he said meekly, and Katsuki gave him a questioning look. “I-I wanted to g-give you the gift I got f-for you.” He opened the door wider, allowing Katsuki to come in. “Be quiet,” Tamaki said, and Katsuki treaded lightly on the plush carpet, shutting the door soundlessly behind him. When he turned around, he was shocked at the sight of Tamaki’s bed.

  
Or, more like, the furry creature laying on top. “Isn’t h-he adorable?” Tamaki asked, smiling softly. The shy boy moved to pet the sleeping dog lying on the covers, cooing at the pup quietly.

  
“Yeah, he is,” Katsuki admitted, and Tamaki smiled again, this time directed at Katsuki. Suddenly, realization struck. “Is he . . . for me?” Katsuki asked, and Tamaki nodded, lifting the tired Pomeranian into his arms, waking the dog up.

  
“Do y-you want to hold h-him?” Katsuki shook his head yes, and carefully took the small dog into his arms. He stroked the fluffy blonde fur with an unusually gentle touch. “I know y-you probably don’t h-have a lot o-of time to take care of a d-dog, but I f-figured that the S-Selected could take c-care of him for y-you, and he c-could keep you c-company whenever you’re stressed or l-lonely.”

  
Katsuki fought a smile, continuing to pet the tiny creature held in his arms. “Thanks, Tamaki, I . . . appreciate it.” He said, albeit stiffly. He really wasn’t great at thanking others. “Have the Selected already met this little guy?”

  
“O-only a f-few. We c-can go introduce th-them n-now if you w-want. They can p-play with him w-while we’re b-busy.” Tamaki offered, and Katsuki nodded his head in agreement. 

  
When they finally arrived at the Selected’s parlor, Tamaki softly opened the door and peeked his head in, before opening it fully for Katsuki to enter. “Oi, extras, listen up.” All heads turned towards him, and the bundle of fluff in his arms. “While Tamaki and I are on our date, you guys get to watch over this little guy. Be fucking careful with him. Glasses, you’re in charge.”

  
Katsuki handed the sleepy dog off to Ochaco, who had run up to pet the fluffball. A chorus of “Have fun on your date!” rang out behind Katsuki and Tamaki as they left, and Katsuki smiled slightly to himself, before letting the expression drop.

  
“W-where are we g-going?” Tamaki asked, as he didn’t recognize the path they were taking. He still had yet to learn his way around the palace, although he took some consolation in the fact that the same was true of most of the other Selected.

  
“The gardens.” Katsuki said shortly, and Tamaki nodded tersely. Katsuki gave him an odd look, and nudged him lightly with his shoulder. “Don’t be so tense. I won’t bite.”

  
Tamaki managed an awkward smile. “I-I just get l-like this around n-new people is a-all.” He admitted. “I-It’s really n-nice h-here.” He said, inadvertently changing the subject.

  
His black eyes scanned the scenery around them, and Katsuki couldn’t say he disagreed. Shoto had seemed to share the same sentiments as well. “Yeah,” Katsuki agreed, albeit half-heartedly. He enjoyed how peaceful the garden was, and a part of him did realize that his surroundings were absolutely breathtaking, but he’d also grown up in this. He wasn’t filled with the same wonderment at the sight as most others were. 

  
Before Katsuki could continue speaking, Tamaki stopped in his tracks, and Katsuki looked back at the timid boy in confusion. “What are you—”

  
“It’s a butterfly,” he said, smiling softly, and approaching the colorfully winged creature with a childlike wonder in his eyes. He held out a tentative hand, and the creature flew towards him like a moth drawn to a flame. “This is a morpho butterfly.” Tamaki said quietly, eyes fixed on the tiny insect flitting about his arm.

  
“You like butterflies, huh?” Katsuki whispered, his voice unusually low. He treaded softly towards the raven-haired boy, who nodded his head slowly.

  
“I love all insects,” he said, and Katsuki suddenly realized this was the first time he had talked without a stutter throughout the duration of their date. “Butterflies especially. They’re so _beautiful_.” He said wistfully. “They’re rare where I’m from, due to pollution, so this is my first time seeing one up close.  
  


Katsuki frowned slightly, inching closer. “I’ve seen plenty within these gardens,” Katsuki breathed. “I can show you.”

  
Tamaki smiled softly, and Katsuki led him along the winding paths of the garden, entranced by the sight of hundreds of different kinds of butterflies, flitting about. Katsuki had never seen the timid boy more at peace with himself and his surroundings, and the sight brought a soft smile to his unassuming lips.

* * *

As soon as the door shut behind the retreating pair, Ochaco was swarmed by the other Selected, all trying to get a peek at the fluffy bundle in her arms. “Guys, guys, back off!” Ochaco exclaimed, maneuvering around the crowds, and to the couch, where she gently deposited the sleeping dog.

  
“Aw, what a cutie!” Mina said, sitting beside the Pomeranian and gently stroking the blonde fur. “What are we gonna name him?” She asked, and a silence fell over the group as they thought.

  
“Y’know, he kinda looks like Bakubabe, if he were a dog,” Denki pointed out, and Mina nodded in agreement. “Let’s name him Blasty!”

  
“That’s a horrible name for a dog!” Camie disagreed. “And did you just call the Prince ‘Bakubabe’?”

  
“I kinda like that name,” Hanta piped up, and some others voiced their agreement or disagreement. “What other name would you guys suggest, then?”

  
Silence.

  
“Exactly,” Mina said pointedly. “Blasty it is!”

  
“To be revised later.” Hitoshi said with a blank stare, and Denki pouted.

* * *

“Have you ever been ice skating before?” Katsuki asked, guiding Tenya along the confusing hallways of the palace.

  
Tenya nodded stiffly. “I have. I’m not very good, though, I must confess.” He admitted, and Katsuki shrugged.

  
“Here we are,” he said, holding the door open for Tenya, who stepped in, letting himself get accustomed to the unusually chilly air. “I’ll help you with your skating.”

  
“Thank you,” Tenya says, a soft smile gracing his features. He sits down on a bench while Katsuki goes to get them ice skates.

  
“Oi, what size are you?!” Katsuki shouts. Although Tenya can’t actually see him, he’s loud enough to be heard.

  
“Size 11,” Tenya calls back, and Katsuki comes back with two pairs of skates.

  
“Alright, try these on. If they’re too loose, tell me and I’ll get ya another pair.” Katsuki sits down beside of him, pulling on his skates and tying them tightly, standing up and gaining his balance once he was done. Tenya was still struggling a bit, and Katsuki sighed before getting down on his knees in front of the taller boy.

  
“My apologies,” Tenya says bashfully, and Katsuki shrugs it off.

  
“No need for it,” he says brashly, and pulls tightly on the strings, tying the laces. “If they’re not tight enough, you could break your ankle. I’ve already got soy sauce face in a sling, I don’t need another injured candidate.”

  
Tenya chuckled lightly, and slowly stood up once Katsuki was done, wobbling slightly. “Shall we begin?” Tenya asked, courteously, and Katsuki grinned, shaking his head.

  
“So formal,” he muttered. The blonde led Tenya out onto the ice, and began gracefully skating along at a glacial pace. Tenya gravitated towards the wall, gripping it tightly as he stiffly skated along. Katsuki frowned. “You’re supposed to be _skating_ , not walking. Keep your skates on the ice, don’t lift them up.”  
  


Tenya tried to do as the blonde instructed, but only succeeded at shuffling back and forth in the same spot, making even less progress. Katsuki huffed a laugh at the other boy’s predicament. “Watch my feet, and repeat the movements.”

  
He turned away from Tenya, and the blue-haired boy kept his attention on the blonde’s feet as he glided across the ice. Katsuki turned around, and nodded, signaling for Tenya to try.

  
And try, he did. He tried over and over again, until he was able to maneuver comfortably on the ice without the help of the wall. “See there, now you’re getting it,” Katsuki commented, watching as Tenya skated from one edge of the rink, to the other, and back.

  
He still couldn’t keep up with the blonde, but he had made considerable progress since they’d started. “Only because I have such a great teacher.” Tenya replied earnestly, and Katsuki had to fight a smile.

* * *

“Masaru,” Aizawa said, barging into the King’s private study. He didn’t stop to wait for a response before continuing. “We need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Tamaki. I'd genuinely adopt him if I could, ngl. I was googling fanart of him, and the one's where he was with butterflies, he was most often drawn with a bright blue butterfly, similar to the color of Dabi's fire. When I was googling types of butterflies, the morpho butterfly fit that description most accurately, so that's where I got that from. Idk shit about butterflies-
> 
> Ice skating doesn't exactly seem like an Iida-esque date, but I wanted to do something I hadn't done before, and this was all I could come up with. I've had a lot of great date suggestions, though, so thank you all for those! I have a list going up to the 17th date planned out, and I think the last four that aren't getting a one-on-one date I'm just gonna have a group date with them.
> 
> Next chapter is Mitsuki's bday, plus I'm introducing a new character into the story, who I'm hoping will become a pretty relevant character in the plot. If you want to try and guess who it is, you can, and I'll tell you that in the anime, they are NOT a very relevant character. I just love them, and wanted to include them in this story :P
> 
> There's also going to be one date next chapter, but other than that I don't think anything will happen except for the bday banquet. I'll have the chapter out on Friday, as always.
> 
> As usual, here's the list of the 20 Selected plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> I'll have a new chapter out on Friday, so see you guys then uwu
> 
> (P.S. should I start doing something like shout-outs if someone gives me a suggestion for a date or gift, etc.?)


	16. Birthday Banquet: Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mitsuki's bday is finally here! Or, at least, part one is. I got really carried away when writing this chapter... and I'm also currently obsessed with this one fic, and I just didn't have enough time to write the whole thing. I promised the bday banquet and a date last chapter, but I'm gonna have to put those off for now. I'll have the second part out on Tuesday, though.
> 
> Btw, I based what everyone was wearing off of what formal wear they had on in 'My Hero Academia: Two Heroes' (except for Deku's shoes, my god). If they were in the movie, of course.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

Katsuki was not pleased to have been woken at such an ungodly hour of dawn, but it couldn’t really be helped. The fact didn’t stop him from being pissy, regardless.

  
He’s been overly stressed and tired since the arrivals of the Selected, and it shows. He does his best to cover up his unnaturally pale complexion and bruise-like bags under his eyes with makeup, but makeup can’t solve all his problems. He wonders how Aizawa manages.

  
He understood that it _was_ his mother’s birthday, and he had to greet guests, help finish preparations, get ready, and speak with the Selected before it was time for the banquet to begin. What he wondered was why that meant he had to wake up at 5 a.m. when the party wasn’t even until 9. He figured he’d stick around until at least midnight, and then sneak off somewhere for the remainder of the night. Most likely to go to sleep.

  
“Katsuki, hurry up,” Akira said in the lightest tone she could muster. She’d been hard at work the past week, and was equally as stressed as the blonde. They had both been more snappish lately, and they decidedly avoided contact as much as possible during this time. They didn’t want to strain their friendship, but it was hard to avoid one another when Akira’s job required her to be around him fairly often. The blonde hated how often his room had been filled with terse silence in the past week.

  
“I _am_ hurrying.” He snapped, and Akira let out a long-suffering sigh. Katsuki merely huffed, and combed his fingers through his gravity-defying blonde locks. “Sorry, Akira. Been stressed out lately.” He said gruffly, and Akira smiled tensely.

  
“You and me both, Katsuki,” she said stiffly, before continuing to prepare him an outfit, holding it up for his approval. He didn’t even glance at it, just nodded his head. He trusted her judgement, after all. “I’ll draw a bath, and leave you to it.” Katsuki nodded once, and began slowly undressing after he heard the soft click of the door shutting, and the sounds of water running in the bathroom.

  
He turned off the faucet, pouring steamy water into the bathtub, and climbed in, sighing as he felt his body submerge in the warm water. His tense muscles relaxed, and he shut his eyes, soaking in the peaceful atmosphere for as long as he could, before beginning to wash his hair, digging at his blonde locks and massaging the scalp.

  
It wasn’t long until he was finishing bathing, and once he stepped out, he immediately missed the warmth the water provided him. Instead, he stood shivering as he dried himself off, wrapping a towel loosely around his waist as he went to change.

  
He vacantly took in the clothing that Akira had chosen for him; a red button up, which he put on first, and a gray vest overtop. The sides of the vest were adorned with a simple floral design. He pulled on simple black bottoms, and unbuttoned part of his button-up, decidedly skipping wearing a tie, as usual.  
  


Akira returned sometime after he had finished getting dressed. “You look tired,” she pointed out, when Katsuki didn’t even react to her walking he. The blonde just snarled half-heartedly at her. “Want me to get you some coffee?”  
  


Katsuki paused. “Sure,” he replied gruffly, and Akira smiled slightly. “I’ll come with you.” He offered, walking up beside his surprised friend. But she took the offer, nonetheless. “I need something to do.”  
  


“Where’s your tie?” She asked, pursing her lips, and Katsuki sneered. He threw the cursed thing back in his closet without a second glance, and he hoped Akira wouldn’t pick up on his lack of one. But, of course, she had. “I know you hate them, but you need to wear it. Your mom’s gonna be pissed if you don’t.”  
  


“So what?” Katsuki bit back, although his anger wasn’t directed at her.  
  


“Just wear the damn tie, Katsuki,” she snapped back, and the blonde scowled. Akira sighed in return. “Fine. Don’t wear it. It’s your head she’ll be having.” Katsuki couldn’t find it in himself to care. Let the old hag yell all she wanted, he didn’t feel like wearing a fucking tie.  
  


“Hey guys!” A chipper voice called out, breaking Katsuki out of his self-induced haze. He looked up, and his eyes were met with spiky red hair and unnaturally sharp teeth. He felt his tense shoulders relaxing slightly at the sight, despite himself.  
  


“Hey, dumb hair,” Katsuki greeted half-heartedly. Eijiro frowned slightly at the lack of malice in Katsuki’s tone. He approached the blonde as well as Akira warily, glancing between the two.  
  


“What’s wrong?” He asked tentatively. Katsuki huffed, crossing his arms and averting his eyes, blatantly avoiding the question. Eijiro’s head swivels towards Akira, a question clear in his gaze. She smiles apologetically at the confused redhead, and proceeds with an explanation.  
  


“He’s just been kinda stressed lately. And tired. We’re going to get some coffee, feel free to join.” Eijiro smiled his shark-toothed grin, and nodded his head, taking a stance beside Katsuki, who was still scowling.  
  


“Thanks for the offer—” he pauses. “What’s your name?”  
  


“Akira,” she replies, and Eijiro nods. They resume walking, and Katsuki just slouches, curling inwards on himself as much as he can. “Your name is Kirishima, right?” Eijiro nods. “Nice to meet you.”  
  


“Nice to meetcha too, Akira.” Eijiro says, smiling brightly, and Katsuki feels his clenched fists loosening. It was incredible, the wonders seeing Eijiro smile could do for the blonde. He would never admit how much he openly appreciated it, but the sentiment was there all the same. “Are you guys excited for this, er, banquet?”  
  


Akira’s smile turns sad, and her eyes travel down to the ground. “I’ll be working for the event, not attending.” Eijiro frowns sympathetically. “But, at least I still get to attend! I can’t say the same for all of the palace staff.”  
  


“I and some others can keep you company, if ya want,” Eijiro offers with a shy smile, and Akira readily agrees. Eijiro’s smile brightens, and he nudges the ever-silent blonde beside of him with his shoulder. “Your dog’s in the Selected parlor. Being around him might calm you down.”  
  


“After I get some damn coffee first,” Katsuki grumbles. Eijiro chuckles slightly, and the blonde sets a slightly quicker pace, forcing the redhead and brunette to catch up to him. “We’re nearly there. Then we can go get the dog.”  
  


“We?” Eijiro asks teasingly, a small smirk forming on his face. Katsuki scowls at him, the look being met with a bellowing laugh. “You’re too quick to anger,” he continues, and Katsuki’s scowl deepens.  
  


“It doesn’t help when I’m running on four hours of fucking sleep.” Katsuki all but growls out at the unphased redhead. Eijiro was used to Katsuki’s anger by now, and he had been surprisingly quick to adjust. He didn’t mind the blonde’s temper, even though he knew some could find him to be a bit frightening. Eijiro knew the anger was never directed at him, and he decidedly didn’t take the snarky comments to heart.  
  


The blonde seemed a little less tense after he had gotten his coffee, but the adjustment in attitude was only slight. It wasn’t until he was lounging on his bed, a blonde ball of fluff resting on his chest, and a redhead sitting beside him with a small smile on his handsome face that Katsuki could finally relax, if only a bit.  
  


It was a privilege to be allowed to view Katsuki’s private quarters, especially this early on in the Selection, and the blonde honestly wasn’t sure what had possessed him to invite Eijiro here. The redhead certainly didn’t seem keen on prying, and sat rigidly on the bed, as if he were afraid to touch anything. Katsuki felt an odd sense of calm come over him whenever Eijiro was around, and he was glad he had invited the slightly taller boy here, after all, even if it may have come off a little strange.  
  


“You don’t have to be so stiff,” Katsuki grunted out at the now sheepish redhead. Eijiro shrugged off his suit jacket, revealing the black button up and matching red tie underneath more clearly. He turned his head to Katsuki, a question in his gaze, and held up the jacket. Katsuki grunted, and jerked his head towards the foot of the bed. “Just leave it there for now. Don’t forget to pick it up once we’re done.”  
  


“And done with what, exactly?” Eijiro asked in a confused tone, tilting his head to the side. “What reason did you bring me here for?”  
  


Katsuki hesitated. “I . . . don’t know.” He admitted, finally, and Eijiro’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Katsuki huffed, and proceeded to attempt to explain. “I just feel comfortable when you’re around. If you’ve got somewhere to be . . .” He trailed off, scowling.  
  


The bed shifted slightly, and there was a dip besides where Katsuki was lying. Eijiro stretched out a hand, and carded his fingers through Blasty’s fur gently. Katsuki would never admit it, but he kind of liked that they named the dog after one of his nicknames. Although, it was a pretty stupid name for a dog, it was the thought that counts.  
  


“I’m good right where I’m at,” Eijiro said softly, and Katsuki really had to try to fight the smile overtaking his features. He wasn’t sure when his eyelids started drooping, but he was too tired the drowsiness taking over him. He felt his head hit the soft sheets, and something warm envelop him, and he clung to that warmth, like a moth to a flame.  
  


And for the first time in a while, he slept dreamlessly, and peacefully, shrouded in a never-ending surplus of _warmth_.

* * *

When Akira returned to fetch Katsuki for his mother, the last thing she expected to see was him cuddling with one of the Selected on his bed, with his now puppy lying in between the pair. The sight was so unlike Katsuki, and yet, she found herself unsurprised. He had seemed noticeably less tense when Eijiro had arrived.  
  


A small smile formed on her lips, although it didn’t stay long. The sight was just so sweet, and comforting, that she hated to have to be the one to wake them both up. If it were up to her, she’d let them lie there contentedly all day, but today certainly wasn’t the time for dawdling.  
  


She sighed dejectedly and approached the blonde’s bed, hesitantly shaking Eijiro’s shoulder. Katsuki was always snappish when he gets woken up, and she’s hoping the redhead won’t be the same way. Maybe when Eijiro wakes up, he’ll jostle Katsuki awake as well. That was the hope, at least.  
  


“Shh,” Akira was shocked to hear the muffled sound coming from her best friend for nearly ten years. “Don’ wake him up.” He muttered tiredly, clinging to the redhead more, in his tired, dazed state.  
  


“Katsuki,” she whispered, and the blonde let out a little hum to let her know he was listening. “The first of the guests will be arriving shortly, and Her Majesty is requesting your presence by the front gates immediately. You’ve gotta get up.”  
  


Katsuki groans, burying his face into Eijiro’s chest, before detaching his limbs from the interlocked redhead’s. Eijiro begins to stir from the movements, and Katsuki frowns slightly. Akira smirks slightly, faking a cough to hide the expression. Naturally, Katsuki notices anyways, and glares harshly at her. She bats her eyes innocently in response.  
  


Eijiro yawns tiredly, and stretches his arms. His crimson eyes blink open tiredly, before realization strikes and he sits up in the bed, his spine ramrod straight. “Oh my god,” he whispers, disbelief clear in his tone. He jumps out of the bed, pulling his suit jacket and shoes on hurriedly. Katsuki watches with a bemused expression. “Oh my god, Prince Bakugou, I am so, _so_ sorry. I-I didn’t mean—”  
  


“Its fine,” Katsuki cuts him off, although Eijiro still looks distressed. “I’m pretty sure I fell asleep on you first.” For some reason, this makes the redhead flush.  
  


“Lover’s spat later, deal with your mom _now._ ” Akira interrupts, smirking slightly. Katsuki scowls at her, but rushes into the bathroom to comb his blonde, spiky hair quickly before coming back out.  
  


“Alright, front gate, you said?” He asks hurriedly, already halfway out the door, before Akira clears her throat, her lips pursed.  
  


“Aren’t you forgetting something?” She asks, and Katsuki gives her a quizzical look. He checks his bed—which Blasty was still resting peacefully on top of—but nothing was there, minus the dog. She gives him a bored stare, and walks into his closet, coming back out with a black article of clothing. “Put the fucking tie on, Katsuki.”  
  


“Hell no!” He says, rushing towards the door, but she blocks his exit, glaring half-heartedly at him. “I’m not wearing that damned thing.”  
  


Akira sighs, and hands the tie off to a confused, and slightly amused Eijiro. “Deal with him for me, would you? I don’t have time for this?” And with that said, she was gone, leaving the two boys alone.  
  


Katsuki glanced at the tie in Eijiro’s hand, before making a dive for it, stumbling into Eijiro’s chest as the redhead moved his hand away from the blonde. “Come on, even I’m wearing a damn tie for this event. It’s not so bad, just put it on.” Katsuki merely glared, and Eijiro sighed, before giving him puppy dog eyes. “Please?”  
  


Katsuki’s jaw clenched, and he snatched the tie away from the redhead, buttoning his shirt all the way and beginning to tie it around his neck. “Fucking, _fine_ , asshole.” Eijiro positively _beamed_ at him, and the blonde suddenly felt like maybe the effort _was_ worth it, if it meant he got to see that smile. “Stop grinning like an idiot.”  
  


Eijiro’s grin only grew wider, and so, Katsuki leaned forwards and kissed the smile right off his lips.

* * *

Katsuki was _mortified.  
  
_

He hadn’t even waited for a response from Eijiro, just dashed out of his bedroom at top speed. Even now, several minutes later, his face was _still_ beet red, and the heat didn’t seem to be fading anytime soon.  
  


Why had he done that? He didn’t even ask for permission! What if Eijiro hadn’t wanted to kiss him yet? What if he had rushed things too much? What if Eijiro felt weird around him now? Why had he _liked_ it so much?  
  


Numerous thoughts and what-ifs ran through Katsuki’s mind at the time. He didn’t pay attention to where he was going, following the path outside purely from memory. Maybe he should’ve been paying attention, because then he wouldn’t have nearly run Ochaco over. He didn’t even notice her trying to talk to him until she grabbed his shoulders and shook him slightly.  
  


His crimson eyes snapped up to meet her concerned, chocolate brown ones. “What?” He snapped, harsher than intended, but Ochaco didn’t necessarily seem to mind. She just looked so, so worried, and Katsuki wondered what she was worrying about. Until he realized the state he was currently in, with his eye-bags and pale skin, and his cheeks looking like twin tomatoes. Of course, she was worried about _him.  
  
_

“Are you okay?” She asked slowly, as if afraid of startling or upsetting him. Katsuki understood she was only trying to help, but for some reason it just made him mad, really mad. He squashed the unwarranted anger down, blaming his suddenly mixed emotions on sleep-deprivation and insanely attractive redheads.  
  


“Peachy,” he said sarcastically, and Ochaco pursed her lips slightly, but didn’t press. He was glad, because he really did not feel like telling another one of his suitors about how he’d kissed Eijiro—that was far too awkward a conversation to be having this early in the morning, let alone ever.  
  


“Where are you headed?” She asked next, with a light tone, and Katsuki really did appreciate it.  
  


“The front gates.” He said shortly, suddenly remembering his mother was _waiting on him_ and he needed to go _right now_. “Speaking of which, I really need to go. It’s been a pleasure.”  
  


He didn’t wait for a response, just maneuvered around her and took off through the winding hallways, missing the quizzical look she directed at his vanishing back. Ochaco sighed, scratching the back of her neck tiredly.  
  


Events like these didn’t come around often in the Selection, and it was incredibly lucky for her to have been here during the Queen’s birthday. It was not only a time to grow closer to the Queen herself, but also a time to pull out all the stops on impressing Katsuki. Ochaco had overheard Kyoka telling Momo that she had prepared a piano concerto in the Queen’s honor, and Ochaco suddenly wished she had useful skills, that didn’t involve lifting heavy equipment.  
  


Instead, she focused on what she _did_ have to impress Katsuki. And her maids seemed to think it was a good idea to put a lot of emphasis on her looks. So, she did her hair really nice, and her dress was gorgeous, her makeup flawless, and Katsuki didn’t even seem to _notice_. It was frustrating, to say the least. What had he been so distracted by?

* * *

If Mina is surprised by a hasty knocking on her door, she doesn’t show it. “Come on in!” She calls, still distracted by the task in front of her, and nearly misses Eijiro’s shocked expression and red cheeks. She had been in the middle of messing around with Denki’s hair, as the blonde had given her permission to do so. When Eijiro came in, she dropped the comb in her hand and looked towards the redhead with a worried expression. “Everything alright, Eiji?”  
  


“Um,” he says, and he looks like he’s clearly at a loss for words. He motions towards the bed, a question in his eyes, and Mina nods. Eijiro takes a seat, a long-suffering sigh escaping his lips. “Something happened.”  
  


“Care to elaborate?” Denki asks, raising an eyebrow at Eijiro’s distressed demeanor. Eijiro was often pretty happy, and carefree, and he didn’t get upset or necessarily embarrassed easily. The blonde wondered what had happened to get him so flustered. Then he remembered—only about an hour ago, when Katsuki and Eijiro had come in to pet Blasty some in the Selected’s parlor and then left _together_ , to Katsuki’s _room_.  
  


_Oh.  
  
_

Mina seems to come to a certain realization before Denki, and whistles lowly. “Damn, Eiji, didn’t know you had it in you.” Eijiro’s face flares up, and a look that can only be described as pure horror crosses his face.  
  


“What— _no._ ” He protests immediately, and Denki gives him a slightly skeptical look. Eijiro’s returns the skepticism with a heated glare. “We didn’t—oh my _god_ , get your head out of the fucking gutter—”  
  


“Then what _did_ happen while you two were in there?” Mina asks, smirking lightly at Eijiro’s clear embarrassment. Her hands move on her own, beginning to mess around with Denki’s blonde locks while she’s talking. Based on the way she doesn’t even glance at the blonde, she must be doing it merely out of habit. “You two have been holed up in his room for over an hour. _Sorry_ if I’m a little suspicious.”  
  


“Well, technically,” Eijiro starts. “We did sleep together, just not in the way you’re implying.” The blank look he gives them make both Mina and Denki crack up with laughter. “And we may have, well,” he pauses.  
  


Denki leans forwards from curiosity, and then scoots back slightly when he feels a gentle tug on his hair from where Mina’s holding it. “Oh?” He asks, and Eijiro presses his lips together firmly. “Details. Now.”  
  


“He kissed me,” Eijiro blurts, his face reddening to the point it matched his obnoxiously dyed hair. “We accidentally fell asleep on each other, and his maid, and friend, Akira woke us up and it was really embarrassing because I was cuddling with _the Prince_ and when I got up I thought he was gonna be upset but he was just kinda teasing me a bit and so I teased back and then his lips were on mine and _oh my god guys I didn’t kiss back_ what if he thinks I don’t like him like that—”  
  


“Sheesh, and I thought Deku was a mumbler,” Mina cuts him off, and Eijiro pauses to take a breath. “Eiji, honey, I don’t understand what you’re so _upset_ about. I’d love to get a kiss from the Prince. Did he even give you a chance to kiss back?” She asks, and Eijiro mumbles out a quiet “no”, to which she ‘tsks’. “That’s what I thought. Don’t freak out over it, this is a good thing! Well, for you, maybe not for me and Kami.”  
  


Eijiro snorts, although the noise is half-hearted at best. “I got him to blush once, I’m satisfied.” Denki jokes, and Mina gives him a skeptical look.  
  


“I doubt you’re smooth enough to get Blasty to blush,” she says, and Denki gasps, giving her a wounded look, which she blatantly ignores.  
  


“It’s the truth!” He protests, and Mina purses his lips. “You were _there_!”  
  


“Don’t remember, didn’t happen,” she says, and the blonde pouts, causing Eijiro to chuckle lowly. Mina and Denki give him a simultaneous smile, and he returns it. He’s still flustered as all hell, and a little confused, but he knew seeking out his friends’ company would help him get past it.

* * *

“Fukuoka?” Katsuki questions, watching the carriages as they approach. “Last I checked, we’re not on very good terms with them.”  
  


His mother bristles, but straightens her posture as they come closer, and closer. “We’re not. But, the crowned Prince has shown interest in forming an alliance once he comes to power, so we invited him and the Queen here, and their heir, Keigo Takami, will be staying for an extended period of time to further strengthen our relations.”  
  


Katsuki nodded absentmindedly, and opened his mouth to continue. His mother cut him off with a sharp look, nodding towards the carriage, which had begun to slow down minutely. The blonde boy straightened his spine, forcing the growing scowl off his face, and took a deep breath, hoping his recent mood swings wouldn’t come into effect at the moment. He was still notably flustered after what had occurred with Eijiro, but he attempted to push the matter to the back of his mind.  
  


The first person to step out of the carriage was a younger man, seemingly only a few years older than Katsuki himself. He had shaggy, dirty blonde hair, paired with a sharp smile. Even from this distance, Katsuki could make out the faint stubble on his chin. He was hot. Katsuki wasn't even going to try to deny that obvious fact. Even the cargo pants, baggy shirt, and bomber jacket couldn't disguise the lean muscle that Katsuki could tell was present. As the shaggy blonde stretched his arms above his head, stretching out from the long journey, Katsuki couldn't help but stare at the exposed sliver of taut abdomen peaking out from under his shirt.

  
Despite the obvious physical appeals of the man before him, that wasn't what had Katsuki entirely enraptured by him.

  
It was his eyes.  
  


His gaze burned a piercing gold, shimmering in the bright Shizuoka air. They were the eyes of a man who had seen a great deal more than Katsuki could ever hope to understand. They were the eyes of someone trained to fight. The eyes of someone who others didn't dare mess with. The eyes of someone who had been trained to stalk and kill on command.  
  


They were the eyes of an apex predator.  


The eyes of Keigo Takami.  
  


For anyone who's not royal, it would have been hard to tell, since the man wore rather casual clothing, especially considering the occasion. The woman who exited the carriage next certainly looked an awful lot more like royalty. Her ivory hair was styled and gelled back neatly, and she wore a shimmering pearl necklace paired with a modest black gown. Her turquoise eyes shimmered in the Shizuoka light, but her face held seemingly no emotion.  
  


Keigo was the first to approach, a blinding smile lighting up his face as he did so. He bowed slightly to Katsuki, and the reached out to shake his hand. Katsuki grimaced slightly at the action, but took the blonde’s hand anyways, shaking it firmly before the man moved on to greet his mother.  
  


“It’s a pleasure,” the Queen spoke to him in an overly formal tone as she bowed her head at him in passing.  
  


“Pleasure is all mine,” he gritted out. She didn’t even hear him. To the blonde’s utter dismay, the old hag offered for him to show Keigo to the room he would be sleeping in during his stay, so Katsuki straightened his back, smoothed out the creases of his face, and walked Keigo to his new room.  
  


Keigo was surprisingly chatty, and talked non-stop the whole walk there. Katsuki piped up whenever he felt it was appropriate, but otherwise remained silent. “Here we are,” Katsuki said, gesturing towards the double doors leading into the blonde man’s new room. Keigo smiled, and walked towards the doors, beginning to open them when a new voice sounded from behind them.  
  


“And who might you be?” Katsuki had to stifle a groan as he turned and saw Dabi standing there, giving Katsuki and Keigo a curious look. Katsuki had nearly forgotten that his room was _right_ across the hall, so of _course_ he’d be here.  
  


Keigo approached him, his smile never fading. He didn’t even bat an eye at the extensive scarring covering a majority of Dabi’s body. Instead, he merely stuck out his hand, cocking his head slightly to the side as he inspected Dabi. “I’m Keigo Takami, from Fukuoka. You’re from Akuyaku, right?”  
  


Dabi took the proffered hand hesitantly, firmly shaking it. “Yup. Call me Dabi.” He said shortly, and Keigo nodded, before glancing back at Katsuki. Dabi did the same, and smirked at the annoyed expression on the blonde’s face, which he had been trying to conceal. “I’ll show our new friend around.”  
  


As soon as Dabi spoke those words, he was off, and back to holing up in his room with his unfairly fluffy dog. He would take all the small wins he could today, even if they came from someone as sketchy as Dabi. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to leave him alone with Keigo, but when Katsuki saw the opportunity, he took it.  
  


“Katsuki,” Akira barged in, and Katsuki nearly flinched at the sudden intrusion. “More guests are arriving, two carriages this time.”  
  


Katsuki groaned but stood up, stretching slightly before making sure he looked okay enough to greet others, before moving through the palace halls at a purposely glacial pace. His mom glared at him when he finally arrived outside, as the carriages were nearly here, but he ignored it.  
  


The first carriage to arrive was marked with the Toshinori family crest—Ban’no. The first two to step out were a man and presumably his daughter. The man was a famous noble from Ban’no, named David Shield, with scruffy brown hair and baby blue eyes framed by thick, black glasses. His daughter had his same eyes, but that was basically where their similarities ended. She had long, curly blonde hair, styled up into a ponytail, and wore a gorgeous black and white dress that accentuated her notable curves.  
  


The King, Yagi Toshinori, was definitely the most shocking. He looked like a genuine skeleton; all skin and bones. His cheek bones protruded from his face unnaturally, and the skin clung to it tightly. His blue eyes were dark, and hooded from how sunken in his eyes were. He honestly looked like a strong breeze could knock him over, and had even Katsuki worrying slightly after the man’s health.  
  


“Oh, no need to worry,” Yagi said, waving away their worries. “A minor incident a few years caused this. My stomach hasn’t been the same since, and I can’t eat nearly as much as before, which is why I’m so thin.”  
  


Katsuki was skeptical, especially about how ‘ _minor_ ’ of an incident it could really be, but didn’t press the matter any further. The last carriage—Katsuki hoped altogether—only held one person in it. Katsuki was impressed by the sight of her—she was clearly a fighter. Her arms were built like bricks, and she clearly made a point to show them off when choosing to wear a sleeveless dress.  
  


“Name’s Rumi Usagiyama, but you can call me Miruko,” she said, and Katsuki nodded. Her white hair swished fruitlessly behind her as she walked, and Katsuki got the odd notion that she reminded her of a rabbit; a _feral_ rabbit. It was a strange comparison, but it fit well.   
  


Katsuki was relieved to hear he didn’t have to greet many more guests, so he hauled his ass up to the Great Hall, which they had cleared out for the time being to prepare for the banquet. He and the Selected had been eating elsewhere, but once the party was over they could return to eating their meals in the Great Hall. He got to work with helping out with the heavy lifting, and prepping for the banquet.  
  


Later, Akira showed up to come help as well, and he struck a conversation with her. Working in silence was boring, but it hopefully wouldn’t be as bad with her beside of him. With all the antics of the day, he almost forgot about what had happened between him and Eijiro.  
  


 _Almost_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for making this into a two-parter, but I'm already behind on schoolwork and didn't have time to finish up the rest of the banquet scene.
> 
> Several new characters were introduced in this chapter, such as All-Might and Miruko. The character I had previously been referring to was Hawks (or Keigo, if you don't already know his actual name), since he's the only one staying overnight.
> 
> My brain told me to write some Kiribaku fluff, and h e r e w e a r e. I have no regrets :P
> 
> As always, here's the list of the 20 Selected as well as their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four


	17. Birthday Banquet: Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 is finally here! Hope it was worth the wait for the final part :P
> 
> Sorry I'm posting this later than usual, I was a little busy this weekend.
> 
> Anyways, I promised a date this chapter, but I'm gonna have to move that date to the next chapter. Sorry, but at least there's lots of fluff to make up for it.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Do you even know where we’re going?”

  
“Nope,” Dabi replied, popping the ‘p’. “But it’s fun to explore,” Dabi directed a smirk at the blonde beside of him, and a soft chuckle escaped Keigo’s lips in response. Dabi had taken him all over the palace by now, and it was safe to say they were sufficiently lost in the monotonous hallways filling the pristine citadel.

  
“By ‘explore’ do you mean get hopelessly lost? ‘Cause we’re definitely doing that?” Keigo asks dryly, and Dabi’s smirk widens. He makes another sharp left, and Keigo hesitates before following after dutifully. If either of them are going to be able to find their way back to something recognizable, it would at least be Dabi.

  
“Have some faith, will ya?” Dabi said teasingly. Keigo huffed, but continued following after the scarred man as he made another two rights, and continued walking straight. “You can chill out, birdie. I think I've been here before."

  
Dabi stopped to silently admire a vase filled with marigolds, shimmering golden in the light. A flicker of recognition and what suspiciously looked like an odd sort of yearning passed through his blue eyes. As soon as the look came, it was gone, and Dabi was back to wearing his usual smirk and mischevious expression. “Yeah, I think I know where we’re at. Come on, birdie, the gardens aren’t far off.”

  
Keigo nodded, following after the taller man with a small semblance of trust, hoping he didn’t succeed in only getting them further lost. True to his word, Dabi led them straight outside and into the gardens, which Keigo had to say he was exceedingly impressed by. His own garden back home was very prim, and proper, and didn’t have that wild, nature feel to it. Everything was styled, and made to look a certain way. But here, the plants were overgrown and insects would flit about, without a care in the world. It was positively overgrown with flowers of all different variations, and there was old stonework deep inside the garden, and the vintage look really fit with the whole of the garden’s aesthetic.

  
“Woah,” Keigo said out loud, taking in his beautiful surroundings. He dropped to his knees, careful to avoid getting grass stains on his cargo pants, and leaned closer to admire a patch of exceptionally colorful flowers. A bee came zooming out of one of the flowers when Keigo got too close, and the action surprised a laugh out of him. As he inspected the scenery, he didn’t notice Dabi doing the same to him. “This place is amazing.”

  
“It really is,” Dabi agreed, watching the blonde as he tried to lure a butterfly over towards him, but only succeeded in scaring the small creature off. He pouted at the action, but made another fruitful attempt with a different winged creature. After the fourth attempt, Dabi felt it necessary to speak up. “I don’t think that’s going to work.”

  
Keigo’s pout only deepened, causing Dabi to chuckle slightly, and offer out a hand to help the blonde back up, which Keigo took easily. “The gardens back home are nothing like this,” Keigo said as they walked, still looking around in awe at their surroundings. Dabi smiled bitterly at the ground.

  
“My mother used to have a garden of her own. It was every bit as beautiful as this one,” Keigo decided not to question the sad tone of voice, but instead shifted slightly closer to Dabi, the offer of a comforting presence being made hopefully clear. “She loved all kinds of flowers,” Dabi continued on, wistfully. “Marigolds were one of her favorites.”

  
Keigo suddenly remembered the way Dabi had looked at the vase of marigolds in the palace before. “Is that how you remembered the vase of flowers before? Because they reminded you of your mother?” He asked cautiously, earning a small nod from Dabi in response.

  
“Moments with my mother are some of the only good memories I have of my past,” he said ruefully. Dabi bent down, mindlessly plucking a fiery red carnation from the ground, and grabbed Keigo’s shoulders to stop him. He stood in front of the blonde, precariously placing the crimson flower amidst Keigo’s blonde locks, smirking in satisfaction at the end result. “You look good in red.”

  
“Th-thanks,” Keigo said, attempting to fight off the strange way his face heated up at the remark. He nervously fiddled with the flower in his hair, distracted by the odd sensation the last bits of the stem left made against his scalp as he walked.

  
In no time at all, the pair had looped through the garden and ended up back where they started, calmly staring down the walls of the palace from where they stood, wondering how to continue on from there. “I’ll show you the Great Hall, I guess,” Dabi said, habitually taking the lead, and Keigo was fine with following. One day Keigo would inevitably have to take charge of an entire _Kingdom_ , but for now, he was perfectly content with letting someone else guide him for once.

* * *

Kyoka had to admit that she was undeniably nervous for the upcoming banquet. She had spent all day preparing, and even then she felt sorely ill-equipped. She was planning to play the piano as a gift for the Queen, but really she was hoping to impress one person.

  
And it wasn’t the Prince.

  
Don’t get her wrong, her entire reasoning for being at the palace was to marry him. But when you meet someone as incredibly flawless as Momo Yaoyorozu, you feel the unmovable urge to bend heaven and earth for them. So, if the least she could do was play some of her favorite piano pieces in hopes of the girl’s satisfaction, then so be it.

  
She was certainly dressing to impress as well. How her maids managed to style her short-cropped hair was a miracle to her, but they did, and it looks amazing, in her not-so-humble opinion. There was a clip pinning it back, a pink and red flower-like shaped that matched her ensemble beautifully. She was garbed in a pink dress with violet garnishing’s, a mere shade lighter than her own hair. Her red gloves and heels matched the clip in her hair, and the look was completed with a black choker and rather uncomfortable gray tights.

  
She had to admit, as much as she wasn’t a fan of dresses, or formal wear in general, she liked the way she looked in this ensemble. Her confidence had ultimately been boosted when Momo had commented how lovely she looked, although Kyoka personally believed no one could’ve topped how amazing the raven-haired girl was dressed—though she didn’t say that out loud. Simply thanked Momo and moved on, hiding her encroaching blush.

  
Kyoka now felt bad for running away from Momo so hurriedly, but surely she could make it up to her by asking for a dance this evening? The party was technically a ‘ball’, however cliché it may seem, and dancing is very much included. While she would greatly appreciate a dance with the Prince as well, a dance with Momo seemed more achievable, regardless. The Prince had 19 other Selected to worry about as well, all most likely wanting a dance of their own.

  
Originally, the notion of asking Momo to dance seemed almost _simple_ , when really it was anything but. Kyoka had already seen Momo that day, yes, but she still felt this overwhelming sense of nervousness when she attempted to approach the raven-haired girl at the banquet.

  
_Oh well_ , she thought bitterly. _I suppose I’ll just have to wait._

* * *

Eijiro worried endlessly over whether or not Katsuki was avoiding him. Then again, the blonde had made no move to approach any of the Selected so far, instead electing to dance with Akira tirelessly. He brushed off anyone who made him offers to dance, claiming he was perfectly content with his current partner, and soon enough he was left entirely alone.

  
It wasn’t that Eijiro didn’t want to ask him to share a dance, because he most certainly did. But he was nervous, insurmountably so, and for good reason. Their impromptu kiss was still at the forefront of the redhead’s mind, and he wondered if the same was true for Katsuki. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was.  
  


He was still able to enjoy himself, nonetheless. Eijiro was currently dancing with Mina, who had dragged him into the throng of the dancing crowd, where he awkwardly shuffled alongside the pink-haired girl, who danced like she’d been at it her whole life. Then again, that fact was indisputably true. Most everyone had found a partner to dance with—even Tenya was stiffly dancing alongside Ochaco, although he looked sorely out of his element.  
  


“Quit staring,” Mina said teasingly, breaking Eijiro from his reverie. He had unintentionally been staring at Katsuki for nearly five minutes, halting his movements. Mina was already too observant for her own good, and his quite obvious distraction certainly didn’t make it over her head. “Go ask him to dance, I know you want to.”  
  


Eijiro shared a pained look with her, before his crimson gaze drifted back towards the scowling blonde, still hand in hand with Akira. “I can’t,” he admitted, his eyes dropping down to meet the tiled floor. “He’s been declining dance requests all night long.”  
  


“So be the exception,” Mina replies defiantly. Eijiro shuffled nervously before her steely gaze, and she squared her shoulders, in ways of a challenge, which he didn’t feel up to accepting. “I’m gonna go dance with Ochaco for a bit. Good luck.”  
  


And just like that, she was gone, leaving Eijiro helplessly alone. The crowds surged around him, swallowing him up, and the only thing keeping him grounded was spiky blonde hair and intense crimson eyes. Before he had the chance to think better of it, he was making his way towards Katsuki, gaze focused intently on the blonde.  
  


Katsuki certainly saw him coming, judging by the way their eyes locked intently. Akira noticed him staring, and glanced over her shoulder, watching as Eijiro made his way over to the pair. “I’m gonna go get some refreshments.” She murmured, leaving the blonde alone with Eijiro, which he was all too uncomfortable about.  
  


Akira noticed how awkward and tense Katsuki had been all day, and she had thought it had let up after he spent some time with Eijiro. In fact, he _had_ been in a better mood, originally, so something must have happened in the span of time she wasn’t there that caused his mood to sour yet again, and the redhead was the only other on present.  
  


“Care to join me for a dance?” Eijiro muttered, so quiet that Katsuki barely registered the request. When it processed in his mind, he simply grabbed Eijiro’s hand in his, and placed the other hand on the redhead’s shoulder, waiting for Eijiro to take the lead, which he did compliantly. They danced in a slightly tense silence, further broken only by Eijiro. “We need to talk.”  
  


“About?” Katsuki questioned, although it was fruitless. They both knew what it was they needed to discuss, and tiptoeing around the topic wasn’t helping either of them. Judging by Eijiro’s demanding expression, he certainly thought the same as well. “I’m sorry for kissing you. I . . . I should have asked first.”  
  


Eijiro looked surprised, to say the least, which Katsuki honestly hadn’t been expecting. Distaste, maybe, or possibly annoyance. Not _surprise_. What did he have to be surprised about? Katsuki was merely apologizing for his wrongdoings, so what was that quizzical expression for? “Katsuki,” Eijiro said, in his deep, sultry voice, and the sound of his name on the redhead’s lips sent shivers down Katsuki’s spine. “You remember what I said on the Report, when Hizashi questioned me on my feelings for you, correct?”  
  


_“What are your feelings for the Prince?” Yamada had asked, and Katsuki waited with baited breath for the redhead’s response.  
  
_

_“I love him.”  
  
_

_Of course_ Katsuki remembered that. How could he forget? The unwavering loyalty and adoration had been clear in Eijiro’s crimson gaze then, and the same could be said now. “You said you loved me,” Katsuki replied, his voice just above a whisper.  
  


“And I still do,” Eijiro didn’t even hesitate, and the steadfast fondness in his tone stole Katsuki’s breath away. Eijiro held the blonde close, one hand interlocked with his, and the other on the small of his back, pulling him in until there was no space in between. Their faces were mere inches apart, and Katsuki could feel his own breath intermingling with the redhead’s. “My only regret was that I didn’t have the chance to return that kiss. So, let me repay the favor.”  
  


Suddenly, Eijiro’s lips were on Katsuki’s, and it was like nothing else in the world mattered, except for _him_.

* * *

Dancing with Hanta was nice, and the raven-haired boy was certainly no slouch at dancing either. Dancing with Izuku was even better, despite the fact that the green-haired male couldn’t dance to save his life. Being around another male who was surprisingly _shorter_ than Denki was a nice change.  
  


Then again, he would’ve jumped at the chance to dance with Katsuki, although it seemed as if he was pretty engrossed in dancing with one girl who Denki didn’t recognize. He was staring at the pair, and he knew it, but he couldn’t exactly _stop_. His train of thoughts were only interrupted by a heavy foot stomping on his own, and an apologetic squeak of, “Sorry!” slipping from Izuku’s mouth.  
  


“Nah, you’re fine,” Denki waved his apology off, although his toe was positively _throbbing._ But Izuku already looked guilty enough, and he didn’t want to add to it, so he danced through the pain, completely oblivious to the pair of violet eyes trained on him and his current partner.  
  


A slower paced song came on, and everyone partnered up to begin a waltz. Denki mindlessly slipped a loose arm around Izuku’s waist, and their clumsy waltz began, with the greenette stepping on his toe every other second. Denki didn’t notice, too focused on watching as Eijiro approached Katsuki, and the brunette that the blonde had been dancing with slipped away into the crowd, leaving the pair alone to dance. They seemed to talk, although Denki wasn’t sure about what ( _probably their kiss_ , a voice in the back of his head told him), and then Eijiro leaned in and—  
  


“May I cut in?” A smooth voice said, and Denki let out a surprised yelp, coming face to face with a smirking Hitoshi, who currently held out a rough hand to the blonde. Denki looked to Izuku for silent confirmation, and he smiled blindingly, before nodding and slipping away, leaving Hitoshi to take his place. Absentmindedly, Denki noticed Izuku grab Shoto from near the refreshments table and begin to dance with the heterochromatic boy.  
  


Hitoshi took Denki into his arms, sufficiently cutting off all the blonde’s train of thoughts, and they began to waltz. It was a miracle Denki was even able to step in time with the music, because his head felt so far away from his body. His face was hot, unbearably so, and there was an intangible roaring in his ears, cutting off all other noise in the room.  
  


He saw Hitoshi’s lips move, but didn’t quite catch what he was saying, resulting in a blank and slightly quizzical expression to form on Denki’s face. Hitoshi chuckled, although Denki felt it more than he heard it. A deep rumbling in Hitoshi’s chest, and it felt nice. Denki leaned in towards the vibrations, resting his head on Hitoshi’s shoulder, and sighing deeply as his senses came back to him all at once.  
  


“Could you repeat that?” Denki asked weakly.  
  


There was that rumbling again. “I was just asking if you’re okay. You don’t look so hot.” Hitoshi asked, and despite his ever-present smirk, there was a hint of worry in his violet eyes.  
  


“Please,” Denki managed a smile, albeit a shaky one. “I always look hot.” This got a real laugh out of Hitoshi, and the blonde couldn’t have smiled any wider if he wanted to. He leaned back into Hitoshi, swaying to the beat of the music, and praying for all he was worth that he didn’t step on Hitoshi’s feet.  
  


Lucky for him, he only did so _once_ throughout the rest of the night. Hitoshi didn’t seem to mind, and Denki absentmindedly wondered if the violet-haired man even realized that the blonde had just stomped on his toe by accident. Based on his expression, he hadn’t, and Denki’s embarrassment tamed considerably.  
  


“Hey,” Hitoshi muttered into Denki’s ear, as yet another song ended. The blonde was thoroughly winded from all the constant dancing and movement, and his cheeks were flushed from exertion. Hitoshi had put in considerably less effort to his dancing, so he still looked as bored as usual, although there was a joyous glint in his usually expressionless eyes. “Let’s go get some drinks, you look tired.”  
  


Denki nodded in agreement, following as Hitoshi skillfully weaved his way through the crowd. He chugged the water offered to him haplessly, letting the cool liquid ease the sweltering heat caused by so many bodies packed in tight in one room. The Great Hall was certainly impressive, but the palace was filled to the brim with royals, nobles, guards, etc. and it showed.  
  


“You okay?” Hitoshi asked, watching bemusedly as Denki gulped down several cups of water in one go. The blonde moved the water away from his lips, the flush on his face noticeably beginning to recede, and smiled bashfully at Hitoshi.  
  


“Fine, just a little hot,” Denki admitted. Hitoshi pondered the statement, before grabbing the blondes hand and pulling him back through the massive throng of guests, making the blonde feel hot and slightly dizzy all over again. Blood pounded in his ears, and he absentmindedly heard himself ask Hitoshi if they could go back for more water, which the violet-haired boy didn’t acknowledge.  
  


A cool breath of night air hit Denki’s face, and he sucked in deep lungful’s of it greedily. “Better?” Hitoshi asked, eyes watching Denki intently as the blonde heaved in breath after breath of fresh air. Denki nodded, and Hitoshi smiled before leading the blonde to the edge of the balcony, where he was able to overlook the palace grounds.  
  


“Woah,” he muttered, admiring the tremendously beautiful view the balcony provided. He had never been inside the gardens before, but he could see from where he stood that they were breathtaking, especially shrouded in darkness, the luminescent moon the only thing keeping them lit. “The view is so beautiful.”  
  


Hitoshi admired a different view, taking in the way Denki gazed at the palace grounds with awe, his mouth curving up into a soft smile that had Hitoshi’s heart melting. “Yeah, it really is.”

* * *

When Mina had advised Eijiro to go talk things out with Katsuki, she really should’ve been less shocked when the redhead leaned in and started _openly making out_ with Katsuki. When she caught sight of the pair kissing, she stopped dead in her tracks, and her eyebrows shot nearly to her hairline, which unsurprisingly alarmed Ochaco, who she had been dancing with at the time.  
  


Wordlessly, the pink haired girl pointed vaguely gestured in the boys’ direction, and it didn’t take long for Ochaco to spot them, whistling lowly at the sight. “Wish I had that kinda confidence,” she said, peeling her eyes away and taking Mina’s hand once more, successfully breaking Mina from her shock.  
  


“I didn’t even know _Eiji_ had that kinda confidence,” she admitted, a smirk present on her face. Mina mindlessly twirled Ochaco, and they continued on in an almost subconscious waltz. Neither had to think very much about their movements, especially with Mina guiding the pair, and they were able to keep up a steady stream of conversation while they danced. “If the other Selected didn’t know about their first kiss, they’re gonna know about this one.”  
  


Ochaco spluttered. “What do you mean _first kiss_?” She asked, and Mina jolted, reminding herself that the redhead had only told her and Denki about that incident, so it must’ve been news to Ochaco.  
  


Mina sighed, dipping Ochaco as the brunette stared at her, her brown-eyed gaze demanding answers. She could be surprisingly intimidating when she wanted to be, despite her ordinarily laidback demeanor. Mina, personally, admired that fact. “They kissed sometime this morning, although according to Eiji it was pretty brief.”  
  


“ _Two_ kisses with the Prince in one day?” Ochaco said incredulously, and Mina had to agree, it seemed almost _unfair_ , although she would never hold it against Eijiro. “Next time I see him I’ve gotta ask Kirishima what his trick is.”  
  


Mina snorted, and the unnaturally loud noise drew a few gazes their way, and she pretended not to notice the way her face flushed in embarrassment. “If he tells you, pass on the word,” she jokes, although she wouldn’t mind knowing exactly what it was Eijiro had done to catch Katsuki’s attention so thoroughly, this early on.  
  


Ochaco seemed to be pondering the same thing, because they danced in silence for the rest of the song. The quiet wasn’t uncomfortable, as the room was anything but. There was loud music and hundreds of voices to fill the space; they didn’t need to talk for there to be noise, and just dancing with one another and enjoying each other’s presence was plenty enough for the both of them.  
  


They danced like that for a while, with some mindless chatter thrown in every now and then, until Ochaco noticed a grand piano being rolled in through one of the side doors. “I think Jiro’s going to be playing soon,” Ochaco said in a hushed tone, although she said it loud enough to be heard. At the quizzical expression she received, Ochaco guided Mina’s eyes in the direction of the piano, and a spark lit in the girl’s golden irises.  
  


“Oh, let’s go watch!” Mina exclaimed, grabbing Ochaco’s hand and leading her through the crowd. They reached the front as Kyoka was walking towards the piano, taking a seat and a deep, calming breath before placing her hands over the keys, waiting for the music to die down before beginning. “Good luck, Kyoka!”

* * *

Dabi was glad when the two boys standing on the balcony finally went inside, presumably to watch that one girl play the piano. As soon as they were gone, the black-haired male made his way outside, breathing in the cool night air as it whipped against his scarred face.  
  


“Oh,” a voice said behind his back, and Dabi whipped around, to be met with shaggy blonde hair and faded, golden eyes. Keigo nervously scratched the back of his neck, slowly approaching the railing where Dabi was leaning against, silently asking Dabi for permission with his eyes. Dabi nodded, almost imperceptibly, and Keigo sighed in relief. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be out here. It’s just so stuffy in here, y’know?”  
  


Dabi _did_ know, it was the exact reason he had come out to the balcony in the first place. He also knew of some other little nooks and crannies in the palace that people rarely frequented, and he enjoyed going there whenever he felt slightly overwhelmed. For some unfathomable reason, he felt the urge to share these places with Keigo.  
  


“You’re going to miss the performance,” was all Dabi replied with instead, and Keigo did seem a little upset at the reminder. His crestfallen expression pulled roughly on Dabi’s heartstrings, and he didn’t have time to process his next words before they were out of his mouth, “Chin up, little birdie, I’ve got a place to show you that you might like.”  
  


Keigo followed him wordlessly, and they expertly avoided the crowd as they went past. Everyone was so enraptured by the girl playing the piano that they didn’t notice Dabi and Keigo slip out of the room. Silently, they trudged down the hall, until Dabi found what he was looking for, and slipped inside.  
  


The room was exactly what you’d expect of a high class music room. It had more instruments than Dabi could name, and in the very center was a beautiful grand piano, all too similar to the one the purple-haired girl was playing at that very moment in another room. He let out a sigh of relief that this one was still here.  
  


Keigo inspected the room with a slightly awe-filled gaze, brushing his fingers against some of the nearby instruments with a feather light touch. While the blonde was distracted, Dabi made his way towards the piano, taking a seat and positioning his nimble fingers on top of the keys. And, with that, he began to play.  
  


It was a slow, sweet song, one that his mother had taught to him. He’d been originally adamant when his father suggested the idea of learning to play the piano, but he had been exceptionally more open to it when his mother offered to teach him. He had never been nearly as good as her, but he enjoyed her lessons. It was so different from his father’s, with less yelling and less brutality.  
  


Every day, he missed his mother, and she was his only regret about leaving home. The piece he was playing was one of her favorites, and he had made an effort to master it over the years. He played the intricate notes without a second thought, almost on instinct, letting the music emanating from the piano fill the room, as Keigo watched him play in slack-jawed awe.  
  


Dabi was minutely aware as Keigo took a hesitant seat beside of him, watching the taller man play with rapt attention. A comfortable silence filled the room once the song was over. “Where’d you learn to play?” Keigo asked softly, matching his tone to the quiet atmosphere.  
  


Dabi smiled wistfully. “My mother taught me.”

* * *

Kyoka’s piano playing was certainly breathtaking, and the sweet music filled the Great Hall as people began to partner up and waltz along to the soft sounds emanating from the grand piano. Izuku took Shoto’s hand without a second thought, placing his free hand on the taller boy’s shoulder as they danced along to the music.  
  


There was no need for words, as they danced along in a comfortable silence, basking in one another’s mere presence. Izuku had always felt understandably comfortable when around Shoto, and now was no exception. Especially when Shoto held him, looking at Izuku as if he’d hung the moon. Izuku wondered if his own expression were similar, because he certainly felt that way.  
  


With the dim lights, the ardent piano, and the way those dancing would cling to each other as they waltzed, the room gave off an undeniably romantic mood. Although, Izuku tried not to think about that fact too much. He was dancing with Shoto, after all, and he was after Katsuki’s heart.  
  


But it was oh so easy to get lost in the music, and even more so in swirling gray and blue eyes. Izuku wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed before, but Shoto’s eyes were gorgeous. On his right, his eye shimmered a pristine silver color, and it gleamed with adoration as they waltzed. His left eye was a pale blue, like ice, which fit well with his usually cold demeanor, but Izuku knew to see through that. He looked deeper, and he saw the _true_ Shoto, the one who he was proud to call his best friend. The one who he’d been so enraptured by the past couple weeks.  
  


But ‘ _best friend_ ’ almost seemed too weak a term, and Izuku couldn’t fathom why. He’d only known the heterochromatic boy for a measly two weeks, so it’d be odd for them to have such a deep bond so early on. It was slightly presumptuous of him, to think that Shoto would even feel the same. But what _did_ come next, after you’re already best friends? Because surely he couldn’t mean . . .  
  


Izuku forced the thoughts from his mind, instead focusing on the boy in front of him. He sighed contentedly, leaning against Shoto’s right side, which had always been unexplainably cooler than his left. It brought a comfort to Izuku’s unnaturally warm face, which had been flushed all night from the close proximity of the crowds.  
  


Shoto didn’t seem to mind the way Izuku rested his head on his shoulder, and judging by the way he tightened his arm around Izuku’s waist, he kind of liked it. Izuku had no intention of moving away, regardless, unless Shoto explicitly asked him to do so, and they continued on, waltzing together, completely oblivious to the world around them.  
  


In their minds, it was just them.

* * *

“That was beautiful, Kyoka,” Momo complimented earnestly, earning a blush in return. Kyoka had been justifiably nervous before playing, but the immediate praise she received afterwards from Momo washed all those former nerves down the drain. She twisted a lock of hair around her finger absentmindedly, fighting away the blush rising on her already heated cheeks.  
  


“I-It was nothing,” she said humbly, although Momo disagreed. Kyoka was talented, to say the least, and anyone who couldn’t tell surely must be deaf. Momo silently wondered how long she had been playing, although she didn’t voice her questions aloud. Instead, she asked something different of the girl before her.  
  


“Care to join me for a dance?” She held out a hand, and by then Kyoka’s face was positively flaming. The violet-haired girl nodded silently, and took the proffered hand, allowing Momo to lead her into the throng of guests as they began a slow waltz, with Momo leading.  
  


Kyoka was glad she wasn’t forced to be in control. She was honestly far too flustered to muster up the courage to do so, and breathed an audible sigh of relief as Momo wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her through a slow-timed waltz.  
  


The thought of waltzing with Katsuki certainly crossed Kyoka’s mind, although she found she was much more content dancing with the beautiful woman before her. Momo was everything a Princess should be; she was poised and graceful, kind and undeniably intelligent, and absolutely stunning without even trying.  
  


So she made no move to leave. If she gripped Momo’s hand a little tighter, the raven-haired girl didn’t comment. And if the arm around her waist tightened slightly as an act of slightly unnecessary protectiveness, Kyoka decidedly didn’t acknowledge the fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another kiribaku kiss? You bet.
> 
> This paragraph will contain manga spoilers for chapter 271, so read at your own risk: Honestly? I love dabihawks a l o t, but I have trouble shipping it now after the most recent manga chapter :( if Hawks dies, I will r i o t.
> 
> Here's the usual list of the 20 Selected as well as their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> Also, there's one more scene to this chapter that I'll be adding at a later date. My co-writer wanted to be the one to write the scene specifically, and she's a little sick atm and didn't feel up to writing it. 
> 
> Next chapter will have three one-on-one dates, and some side-interactions with the Selected. I'll have it out on Friday, can't wait 'til then ^^


	18. Dancing in the Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still surprised I'm managing to keep up with this update schedule tbh lol
> 
> Three dates in this chapter, and some brief side interactions
> 
> Enjoy ^w^

“God, could you have been any more _obvious_?” Mina questioned teasingly, making Eijiro’s face flush a color eerily similar to his hair. She didn’t say it aloud, but both parties understood Mina was referring to the impromptu make-out session the redhead had shared with Katsuki at the banquet the former night. The Selected had been muttering about the surprising turn of events all day, and by then everyone in the parlor knew about it.  
  


From Eijiro’s closest friends, he had received congrats, whereas amongst others the palpable jealousy was barely contained. Then again, Neito hadn’t seemed to be making an effort to hide his discomfort and envy of the redhead. Katsuki had made a show of favoritism of Eijiro from the very start by choosing him for his second one-on-one date, and now Eijiro received the second kiss as well. It was _unfair_ , insurmountably so.  
  


“Honestly, you couldn’t have kept it to yourself until you were at least alone with him? What, did you want to rub it in our faces that you kissed him?” Neito loudly taunted the redhead from where he sat, although the malicious lilt to his voice gave the impression he was doing more than just good-natured teasing. Mina grit her teeth, fully prepared to defend her friend, although Eijiro didn’t seem personally bothered by the comment.  
  


The redhead bashfully smiled, scratching the back of his neck nervously, and let the slightly envious tone roll off of him like water. “That wasn’t my intention at all, dude,” he admitted apologetically. Neito scoffed in response. “I got a little carried away in the moment, is all.”  
  


Eijiro figured it was best to keep the fact that he had actually been kissed _twice_ hush hush, and the only people that knew were him, Mina, Denki and Ochaco, none of which planned on blabbing. Eijiro wasn’t necessarily ready to lie upfront about the fact if he was openly questioned about it, but he wouldn’t bring it up if no one else did.  
  


While the redhead was slightly embarrassed over the fact that there had been multiple witnesses to him kissing Katsuki, he didn’t regret his actions for even a moment. The positively flustered look on the blonde’s face after they parted was absolutely worth it, in the end.  
  


Even better, was the way Katsuki’s name felt in Eijiro’s mouth. It was strange to be calling Katsuki by his given name, but simultaneously it felt oddly _right_ to be calling him that. He had pondered asking Katsuki if he could continue using that name for him, but he didn’t want to overstep the blonde’s boundaries, and decidedly made the choice to hold his tongue. Better to be safe than sorry, right?  
  


Neito was still silently fuming about the redhead’s stroke of good fortune. He had been working so _hard_ , and he had yet to receive a private date with Katsuki. Then again, he had one coming up this afternoon, but that was beside the point. Katsuki had already had a date with nearly half the people in the room already, and he was pissed that it’d taken Katsuki this long to getting around to asking Neito to accompany him on a date.  
  


 _Sparring_ wasn’t his ideal idea of a date either. He wasn’t much of a fighter by principle, and Neito wasn’t looking forward to getting his face shoved in the dirt by none other than Katsuki. Beating each other up was far from _romantic,_ and the blonde silently wished he had been requested for a more eloquent date, like Momo had gone on. A candlelit dinner and a peaceful trip to the library sounded like heaven in comparison to what he was stuck with.  
  


Of course, he wasn’t complaining. In fact, he planned to act the part of pure chivalry on his date with Katsuki. Maybe throw around some political knowledge he’d been storing for the right moment, and “slip-up” with some partially factual gossip about the other Selected. As long as he was still telling half-truths, Katsuki surely wouldn’t notice. There was always the possibility he could still do so while sparring, although he’d have to be more careful in the way he approaches the topic.  
  


And, naturally, his target was the redheaded menace who’d been the focus of his rage ever since he saw them kiss. Despite his loathsome attitude towards Eijiro, there wasn’t much to be said about the smiley redhead in ways of gossip. He was basically an open book, and easy to read. He laid his emotions on the surface, and was brutally honest with people when the occasion called for it. But, Neito was nothing if not clever, and he was sure he’d be able to find _something_ about the redhead he could use as leverage.  
  


That had always been Neito’s specialty, after all.

* * *

“I think if you want to get information out of any of them, Bubaigawara is the most loose-lipped. But, he does have the tendency to refute his own statements, so you’ll have to discern which claim is the truth.” Kendo advised, and Katsuki listened with rapt attention, worrying his nails.  
  


“Then I may as well just gather information from one of the others,” Katsuki grumbled. Kendo shrugged in response, absentmindedly filling out paperwork as they talked. Kendo had yet to do much with her job thus far, considering she was only then starting out, but Katsuki trusted her judgement as much as any royal advisor.  
  


The orange-haired girl pursed her lips at his comment. “Dabi’s the most level-headed of the bunch. Try talking to Toga, maybe even try to charm her. I’ve heard from the Selected that she’s a bit of a flirt.” Katsuki sneered, and Kendo had to agree with his unsaid statement that it seemed unconventional. But, this was war, or at least soon to be, and playing dirty wasn’t off-limits.  
  


Akuyaku had already proven they’d go to any lengths to win, and Shizuoka needed to prove they could do the same. Didn’t make the idea any better, though. “I don’t think I’m exactly her type,” Katsuki deflected, earning him a worn-out sigh.  
  


“She came here to be a candidate for your marriage, Your Highness,” Kendo retaliated, and Katsuki huffed, snarling without heat. “Just make it seem like you’re invested in this opportunity. Toga’s smart, but she’s also gullible, so use that to your advantage. And don’t let Dabi catch on to what you’re trying to do. Like I said before, he’s got a smart head on his shoulders. Luckily enough for us, he’s a bit . . . _distracted_ by the foreign Prince who’s currently visiting.”  
  


Katsuki nodded along, taking the information into account as Kendo spoke. Toga always managed to make Katsuki and everyone else around exceptionally uncomfortable, but if flirting with someone like _her_ was what it took to give them an edge in the war, the so be it.

“Don’t you have a date soon?” Kendo asked tiredly, snapping Katsuki from his thoughts. He swore under his breath as he noticed the time, realizing he probably only has ten minutes or less to get ready, if he wants to arrive early. He gave a brief farewell to Kendo, who seemingly didn’t acknowledge him leaving, and the blonde hurried down the halls to his room, changing into something comfortable that he could easily maneuver in.  
  


Neito had a fair bit of muscle packed into his wiry frame, although he didn’t look like a fighter in the least. Akira had actually suggested the date idea to him, claiming that Neito had an “easily punchable face”. Katsuki wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to work on his fighting skills, no matter how untrained the opponent.  
  


Cargo pants and a black tank-top would have to work, as it was all Katsuki had off-hand. The blonde managed to arrive on the nearly empty training fields five minutes early, letting out a sigh of relief when realizing he had still beat Neito there. After a fifteen minute wait, which had Katsuki nearly seething, Neito decidedly arrived, smiling coyly at Katsuki and waving boisterously.  
  


Katsuki didn’t bother waving back. Instead, he stood up abruptly and got into a fighting stance, wordlessly prompting Neito to attack, which he did. First mistake.  
  


The first rule of thumb Katsuki learned about how to fight was that you _never_ make the first move. Goading your enemy into striking first was Katsuki’s usual strategy, and it worked seamlessly on Neito. The smug blonde attacked, going for Katsuki’s nose, and the ash blonde grabbed Neito’s arm and flipped him over his shoulder. Neito landed in the dirt with a resounding thud, causing Katsuki to smirk victoriously.  
  


Neito sprung up, going in for another attack from behind. Katsuki dodged with ease, watching Neito’s movements for signs of his next attack. His attacks were all too easy to read. Neito gave it all away with his body language, and Katsuki was able to dodge and weave around Neito’s assaults with practiced ease.  
  


A scowl to rival Katsuki’s own settled on Neito’s face, and he attacked endlessly, remaining on the offensive while Katsuki stayed well out of range of his comparably weak blows. They didn’t hold much force behind them, so even if Neito landed a hit, it wouldn’t do much damage. Katsuki was another case, as he had been trained to fight most of his life. When he struck, he struck with power and purpose.  
  


The butt of Katsuki’s palm met Neito’s throat, and left the latter wheezing for breath as he grasped desperately at his throat. Katsuki watched in amusement as the blonde leveled a glare at him, and went in to strike once more, missing sorely as Katsuki leapt away from the predictable attack.  
  


Their sparring continued on like that for another half hour, until Neito was seemingly too exhausted to continue. Katsuki figured he could probably go on for another hour or so, but Neito’s attacks had slowed considerably, and his glare held less malice than before, instead replaced with a tired quality. Katsuki had managed to land a couple solid hits, although he could’ve done worse if he’d wanted to.  
  


There was a nasty purple bruise spreading across Neito’s jaw, but minus that Neito was practically unscathed. Tired, and horribly sweaty, but not hurt. “Might wanna put some ice on your jaw,” Katsuki advised Neito absentmindedly, although the other blonde stewed in silence. He hadn’t necessarily been expecting to do well, but it was still embarrassing to lose.  
  


Neito decidedly avoided the other Selected for the rest of the day. While the bruise wouldn’t be gone in a mere 24 hours, he preferred for the coloring to have gone down at least slightly before he made another appearance in front of the others. Admitting that he got his ass handed to him by Katsuki was not something he’d been prepared for. Worst of all, he’d been so focused on fighting that him and the ash blonde had hardly even spoke during their date.  
  


Talking was Neito’s most notable strong-suit. He was manipulative, and wicked smart, making for a pretty disastrously terrifying combination. In terms of intelligence, he was one of the smartest Selected by far, rivaled only by few. He decided not to mention the fact that a lot of them couldn’t afford as good of education as he’d received.  
  


Neito had originally planned to impress Katsuki with his extensive knowledge on multiple subjects, but instead he came off as arrogant and immature by acting like a sore-loser. He’d been entirely out of his element with that date, and it showed.  
  


Oh well. There was always next time.

* * *

Despite the fact that she was asked for a date pretty late in comparison to the others, Kyoka had still been a little surprised when Katsuki had asked her to accompany him that evening. It seems the blonde had been taking her interests into account when deciding a date activity for them, as he asked her to go with him to the music room.  
  


It would seem Katsuki was simply full of surprises, when he sat down and absolutely _destroyed_ the drums. Kyoka had never excelled much at that particular instrument, although she could see why Katsuki may have liked it so much. He got to constantly hit something full force without repercussions, and the result sounded fucking _amazing_. Kyoka had to admit she was undeniably impressed.  
  


Kyoka herself could play loads of instruments, although she had her preferences, mainly being guitar. She sang as well, although she would never sing for work. Kyoka only did that in the privacy of her room, where no one could overhear. She’d always been incredibly shy about her voice, and music in general, and despite encouragement from her family on how amazing she was, the irrational fear and nervousness never faded.  
  


It took Kyoka a decent amount of time to muster the courage to play an instrument in Katsuki’s presence. Naturally, she went for the guitar, and hummed along to the gentle strumming patterns of a song her mother had taught her a while ago. Katsuki listened to her play silently, crimson eyes focused on the way her fingers danced across the taut strings with a practiced ease. When the song ended, she started up right away on another one.  
  


“Here, try this out,” Katsuki said gruffly, holding out an electric guitar instead. She took it quizzically, making sure it was plugged in before positioning her fingers over the strings and getting a feel for the instrument. Back home, she’d never been able to afford an electric guitar, so it was entirely unfamiliar to her. Although, she’d always been a quick learner.  
  


While she got used to the new instrument, Katsuki situated himself at the drums once again, absentmindedly playing in conjunction with Kyoka. Their timing was horrid, and so Kyoka picked up the pace to match Katsuki’s set tempo. It sounded rocky at first, at best, but considering the fact they had never played together before, Kyoka and Katsuki sounded decently.  
  


They continued playing together, and the quality of the music ever so slowly increased, until an idea brought itself to the forefront of Kyoka’s mind, halting her playing, causing Katsuki to pause as well. He looked at her in confusion, and she cleared her throat before elaborating. “We should write a song together,” she suggested, and Katsuki seemingly pondered the idea. “We could even have a little impromptu band! Y’know, for fun.”  
  


Katsuki grinned maniacally at the suggestion, which Kyoka took as a good sign. “Who of the Selected do you think would be interested?” He questioned, and Kyoka tapped her foot as she thought, a tic she’d developed over the years.  
  


“Momo’s a really good piano player. She’d probably be a pretty good keyboardist.” Kyoka offered, and Katsuki mulled it over. The grin never left his face, and he nodded wordlessly. Kyoka returned the grin, mentally reminding herself to ask the other Selected about the idea once her date was over.

* * *

“Hey guys.”  
  


Kyoka had just returned from her date with Katsuki, and she had to say she had thoroughly enjoyed herself. They hadn’t spoken much, but the music more than made up for the verbal silence. It had been comforting to be surrounded by music once more, that being one of the things she missed most about home. She missed her family desperately, and the lively persona they carried with them. There was never a dull moment in her house.  
  


Then again, the Selection hadn’t been all that much different. Going on the terms of there never being a dull moment, the same could be said. There was always some bout of drama partaking amongst the Selected, and as much as Kyoka liked to pretend she wasn’t one for gossip, those sort of conversations interested her.

She had taken a liking to quite a few of the Selected, although she had quickly found herself growing closest to Denki and Momo. The electric blonde had been easy to tease from the start, and Momo had naturally drawn Kyoka in by some unknown force she couldn’t exactly name. The violet-haired girl frequently switched between groups consisting of Izuku, Ochaco, Shoto, and Tenya or Denki, Hanta, Mina, Eijiro, and Hitoshi. Or as Mina liked to call them, the Dekusquad and Bakusquad, consecutively.  
  


Oftentimes, Kyoka would just sit where Momo was at. Today, though, she sat with the, quote unquote, ‘Bakusquad’ to ask them about the idea of some of the Selected forming a band, of sorts. She wasn’t entirely sure if anyone she was sitting with knew how to play any instruments, but it never hurt to ask.  
  


The others sitting there greeted her casually, and returned to the conversation they’d been having before. Kyoka listened in, waiting for an opportunity to bring up the band. “What’s the deal with Inasa and Todoroki though?” Denki asked. “If looks could kill, I swear Todoroki’d be dead by now.”  
  


“They’re from the same area, right? Maybe some bad blood.” Mina offered, although she didn’t seem entirely sure. Inasa had seemingly hated Todoroki from the start, so it wasn’t too far-fetched an idea. Although, Todoroki seemed completely ignorant of Inasa, almost like he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care enough to acknowledge Inasa’s constant, burning glares.  
  


“Todoroki doesn’t really seem to hate Inasa, though.” Eijiro piped up, and Kyoka hummed her agreement. “I think the grudge is probably one-sided.” But that poses the question; what _had_ Todoroki done to get on Inasa’s bad side? He was pretty tame, to put it simply. While he could be painfully oblivious at times, he wasn’t rude or malicious.  
  


“Maybe I can try getting some information from Camie. She and Inasa seem pretty close.” Denki suggested, and the others chorused their agreement. Kyoka scoffed good-naturedly at the lengths they’d go to for gossip.  
  


“Before you do that,” Kyoka said, drawing everyone’s eyes to her. Nervously, she twirled a strand of hair around her finger, staring intently at the violet strand to avoid her friends’ eyes. “There’s something I wanna ask you guys about.”  
  


“Shoot.” Eijiro said immediately, and Kyoka tried to relax her shoulders. While she was mildly comfortable with those she was with right then, but it was still abnormally hard for her to open up to relatively unfamiliar people. While she’d had time to get to know them, she’d only met them all two and a half weeks ago.  
  


“Well, while on my date with the Prince, I suggested the idea of him and some of the Selected forming an impromptu band, and writing a song together.” She began, and the others looked excited at the prospect. Good start. “I was wondering if any of you’d be interested in participating? You’d have to play an instrument, but that can be taught even if you don’t already know how.”  
  


Denki was the first to speak up. Excitement glimmered in his golden eyes. “I’m in! Do you think you could teach me guitar?” The look in Kyoka’s eyes matched Denki’s at the request, and she agreed exuberantly. She’d never had the chance to teach guitar to another person before, but the prospect had always seemed fairly exciting to Kyoka.  
  


They were only three members in, but it was progress nonetheless. Kyoka couldn’t wait to see how this turned out.

* * *

Stumbling into Katsuki in the halls was starting to become a regular occurrence on Ochaco’s part. It wasn’t that she was purposely trying to seek the blonde out, but she certainly wasn’t complaining when she’d stumble across him as they made their way through the palace. Usually, Katsuki looked fierce, untouchable even. Today he looked worn down and more tired than she’d liked to have seen him.  
  


Ochaco was able to comprehend the weight that Katsuki had to singlehandedly carry on his shoulders, although she wasn’t sure if she could ever hope to understand. If she became Queen, though, it’d be inevitable that’d she have to learn.  
  


Ochaco, decidedly, stuck by the blonde’s side. He looked like he could use a little company. “Is everything alright?” Ochaco asked quietly. The seething blonde had been silently brooding, and although Ochaco didn’t necessarily mind the silence, it had grown to be a little tense.  
  


“Peachy,” the blonde replied dryly, and Ochaco met the tone with a blank look. Katsuki sighed, glancing back at Ochaco briefly, before looking away and picking up his pace. Ochaco was left behind, moving quickly on her noticeably shorter legs to keep up. “C’mon round face, there’s a place I wanna show ya.”  
  


Ochaco scoffed. “Round face?!” Gently, she reached up a hand to poke at her cheek. She’d never really outgrown all of her baby fat, but she hoped it wasn’t _too_ noticeable. “Where are we going?”  
  


“You’ll see.”

* * *

Ochaco had never been this high up before, and she wasn’t sure whether to be terrified or amazed at the view. She didn’t know much about astronomy, although Katsuki seemed to know his stuff. As they sat on the roof, admiring the stars, he’d point out different constellations to Ochaco as he noticed them. Looking at the stars with a blind eye, she couldn’t tell, but when brought to her attention, she could see the vague shapes that the stars formed.  
  


The brunette glanced briefly at the blonde beside of her. He seemed a lot less tense now that he was up here, and Ochaco was perfectly content with listening to him ramble about the stars while she got lost in her own thoughts. What could this even be considered? Was it a date? It’s not like Katsuki had explicitly asked her to accompany him on a date beforehand, like he’d done with all the others. But, part of the reason it was nice was the fact that it _hadn’t_ been planned. She’d just been lucky enough to run into him that night.  
  


Ochaco wasn’t entirely sure how long it’d been, but it felt like hours had passed, when a raindrop fell haphazardly from the sky and hit Ochaco square on the nose. That was only the beginning.  
  


The rain pelted them at a high velocity, and Ochaco immediately made a move to get back inside the palace. The only thing stopping her from making a hasty escape towards shelter was a calloused hand gripping her wrist. Katsuki’s eyes were focused on the abysmal darkness of the night sky, and watching the rain droplets as they fell around them, devouring them in sheets of icy cold.  
  


Katsuki didn’t say a word. He let his actions speak for him as he guided Ochaco into a music-less waltz. Ochaco hummed a soft tune, although her voice was nearly drowned out by the sound of the rain. Katsuki picked up on the low tones of her humming and joined in, waltzing along the imaginary rhythm they’d created.  
  


By the time the rain stopped, Ochaco figured it was long past midnight, although she felt surprisingly content. Despite the aching cold settling in her bones, the brunette couldn’t stop smiling, and it seemed Katsuki was fighting off the urge to do the same. There wasn’t a need for words as they parted ways, a hushed whisper all that could be deciphered in the wee hours of the morning.  
  


For once, sleep decidedly didn’t evade Ochaco, and she slept peaceably ‘til morning came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who have seen season 4 of bnha (or read the manga), what I'm trying to do with this whole band idea is kind of recreate the concert that 1-a held, but on a smaller scale. The 'audience' will inevitably be most likely the rest of the Selected who aren't participating and then like maybe the LoV members.
> 
> I kinda related to Ochaco with the short legs part. Being short sucks ass :<  
> My talls friends: *walking leisurely*  
> Me, being a short bean: *lowkey jogging to keep up*
> 
> Next chapter is going to have three more dates, and then the chapter after that will be the next Report chapter ^^
> 
> Here's the usual list of the Selected, plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> So, the next chapter won't actually be out until FRIDAY. I know I normally update on Tuesdays, but I only have two weeks left of school so I've decided that I'm going to update once a week until school's out, then I'll return back to the Tuesday and Friday schedule.
> 
> Anyways, I hope everyone reading this enjoyed, and I'll be back next Friday with two private dates and a group date ;P


	19. Katsuki Bakugou: The P r e t t i e s t Prince There Is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad I did this new update schedule, because I was so busy this weekend that I didn't get any writing in at all. The update schedule will be back to normal after next week, but until then I won't be posting again until next Friday
> 
> This chapter has two private dates, and one group date. Next chapter is the second Report chapter, where Yamada will be interviewing the rest of the Selected. I've considered having him interview either Hawks or the Akuyaku representatives, but I might save that for a later date...
> 
> Anyways, enjoy! ;P

Katsuki wasn’t sure what was in store for his upcoming date, but he had the distinct feeling he wouldn’t be fond of it. Giving Akira and Camie simultaneous free rein of what he and Camie would do on their date was probably horribly bad judgement on his part, but Katsuki simply hadn’t felt up to the task of deciding what he and Camie should do together at the moment.  
  


The feeling of dread pooling in his gut only grew at the twin grins Camie and Akira were sending his way when he approached the two. The mischevious glint in their brown eyes gave the blonde a strangely apprehensive feeling, although he tried to put it aside. He’d do his undeniable best to enjoy whatever Akira and Camie had chosen, despite how sinister the concept.  
  


That was until he heard the words out of Akira’s mouth.  
  


“We’ve decided that you two are going to dress up in clothes from each other’s closets!” She said it so enthusiastically, that Katsuki nearly didn’t realize the fact that Camie’s closet was surely filled with nothing but frilly, tight dresses that were many sizes too small for him. There was absolutely _no way_ in _hell_ that anyone would ever dress Katsuki up in a gown and heels.  
  


“Fucking— _no_ ,” Katsuki ground out, but Akira’s smile never faltered. Instead, she guided Camie directly to Katsuki’s _personal quarters_ and inside his _fucking closet_ , before promptly slamming the door shut in Katsuki’s face, leaving the seething blonde angry and somewhat frazzled.  
  


Camie came back out less than ten minutes later, wearing baggy pants and a loose white button up. It appeared she’d attempted to tie the tie herself, because Katsuki was certain Akira could have done ten times a better job than the sorry excuse for an accessory currently hanging limp around Camie’s neck. The outfit was entirely underdone, and it made Katsuki even more upset than he already was.  
  


He growled fiercely, before pushing Camie back in the closet and pulling accessories off of shelves and racks, throwing them in the surprised blonde’s waiting arms. “That outfit disgusts me,” Katsuki ground out, grabbing a new pair of pants that he was sure would fit better. “Try these on.”  
  


Katsuki kept his back turned towards the girl as she changed, and did his best to ignore the unabashed stream of snickering falling from Akira’s loose lips. “All done!” Camie called out, and Katsuki turned towards her. The sweatpants fit much better than formal pants, although they remained to be a little baggy and longer than they usually were on Katsuki. Then again, he did have a good three to four inches over Camie.  
  


A much-too-large tank top and multiple accessories later, Camie was geared up in a decent looking outfit. It appeared as though she were just about to go on a mild jog in spring weather, although the current season would never permit such attire. Camie styled her hair in a simple ponytail to complete the jogger look, and they left for Camie’s room after she got Katsuki’s approval. Or, more like, Akira and Camie _dragged_ Katsuki to Camie’s room while he fruitlessly fought them tooth and nail.  
  


“I _refuse_ to wear a goddamn _dress_ ,” Katsuki spat, backing up into a corner of the room as the brunette and blonde girls before Katsuki approached him and dragged him towards the closet. Akira considered temporarily knocking Katsuki out, and getting a dress on him by the time he woke up, but decided it was much more fun to dress him up while he was fighting them.  
  


It took nearly an _hour_ to get a dress on Katsuki. It was pink, and frilly, and lacey as can be. Everything Katsuki hated. It was far too tight, and the ash blonde struggled immensely to breathe in the damned thing. He silently wondered how Camie or any of the other female Selected managed to put up with wearing something so _horrid_ all of the time. Katsuki found a new appreciation for all the women and the work they had to put in to look as good as they did all of the time.  
  


The ash blonde fought tooth and nail as Camie held him back and Akira applied a light coating of makeup to his pale face. Finding shoes that fit him was a near impossible feat, so they left Katsuki barefoot. Standing him in front of a mirror, clothed fully in a dress, makeup, and an annoying surplus of jewelry, Katsuki nearly _gagged._ He thought his clothes were annoyingly stiff, but how did women _breathe_?  
  


“Aw, you look so beautiful!” Camie said in a teasing tone. Katsuki met the remark with a snarl, which Camie seemingly ignored.  
  


“Certainly the loveliest Prince,” Akira agreed in the same lilting tone, causing Katsuki to seethe.  
  


“Shut. The fuck. _Up._ ” He spat, and both girls laughed outright at him, only furthering his temper. Katsuki was ecstatic when he finally changed back into his own clothes. Camie decided for them all to go and show the Selected her impromptu makeover. Katsuki was simply relieved they hadn’t decided to show them _his_.  
  


“Whaddaya think?” Camie asked, doing a little spin in her jogger get-up, taken entirely from Katsuki’s closet. The others shouted their approval, and Camie basked in the attention. “The pants are a little tight, though. Pretty sure blasty here’s got a smaller waist than me.”  
  


Mina snorted. “I strive to have a waist as small as his, honestly.” The Selected looked to Katsuki waiting for his reaction.  
  


His eyes twitched as he stared down the two girls before him. “You’re all dead to me.”  
  


The ash blonde found himself self-consciously checking his waist despite his former comment, wondering if it actually _was_ that small after all **(a/n: it totally is)**.  
  


Katsuki decidedly didn’t stick around too much longer, instead seeking out the company of another blonde.

* * *

“I have trouble believing you managed to get Bakubitch in a fucking _dress_ ,” Mina said, and Camie shook her head in disagreement.  
  


“Trust me, it totally happened,” the blonde girl disagreed. “No offense Jiro, but I’m pretty sure he has bigger boobs than ya.”  
  


Kyoka covered her chest defiantly, letting out an indignant squawk in protest. She’d always been slightly self-conscious of how flat her chest was, but Kyoka had learned to get past the fact after a while. Most women in her area were rather flat-chested, and it was theorized to be due to the food they would eat there. But even then, it was a little insulting to be told she had tinier boobs than _Katsuki_.  
  


“He does not!” She cried in protest, and the others chuckled at her defensive reaction.  
  


Camie didn’t often sit with their group, but Mina had insisted, and so the blonde joined them, while Inasa went to join the Dekusquad. She took a gracious seat besides Denki, sitting in between him and a glaring Hitoshi, although she didn’t seem to notice the death-like aura radiating from the violet-haired boy.  
  


“Actually, I think Camie’s right on this one.” Denki argued teasingly, smirking smugly at Kyoka as she flipped him off. She fought down the rising flush of her cheeks hotly.  
  


Luckily, Kyoka was soon saved from her embarrassment and ensuing teasing by none other than Fumikage, who silently approached her from behind. She didn’t notice him until he gently tapped her shoulder to gain her attention, efficiently startling her. “Sorry.” Fumikage apologized. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”  
  


“Its fine, Tokoyami,” Kyoka said quickly. It wasn’t often that Fumikage would go out of his way to interact with Kyoka, although they’d made small talk in a group of three or more on multiple occasions. “What’s up?”  
  


Fumikage glanced at the seat beside her on the couch, which was currently taken up, for the most part, by Hanta. Fumikage cleared his throat lightly to garner the brunette’s attention, and Hanta turned to face him, noticing where the dark-haired male’s eyes were focusing at. “Oh! You can sit here, Toko,” Hanta offered, shifting to make space.  
  


Fumikage nodded his head in lieu of a silent thanks, before taking a seat besides Kyoka. Hanta turned back around, easily jumping back into the discussion the others around them were having. “I’ve heard news about a possible band you’re forming?” He phrased it as more of a question, rather than a statement.  
  


Kyoka nodded her head in confirmation, before continuing on to explain. “Yeah, it was an idea that the Prince and I came up with on our date,” she paused, silently inspecting Fumikage. “Why? You want in?”  
  


He nodded his head slowly, in agreement. “Yeah, I do. I know the basics of guitar, but with some extra lessons, I could play bass. I’ve heard Yaomomo and Kaminari have already joined up, correct?” Kyoka nodded. “Well, I can be the final member you’re looking for. If you’ll have me, that is.”  
  


Kyoka was quick to agree to the terms. Who was she to deny someone the chance to play music? “We’re writing our own song to play in front of the Selected and whoever else the Prince wants to come. We’ll be meeting up with him tomorrow after the Report, so do you want me to just come get you afterwards?”  
  


“That sounds good,” Fumikage agreed easily enough, and Kyoka gave him a quick thumbs up, flashing the raven-haired boy a small smile.  
  


“Welcome to the band.”

* * *

Finding Keigo was surprisingly easy. The man had taken to walking about the gardens often, and today was no exception. Unsurprisingly, Katsuki found Keigo accompanied by none other than Dabi. The pair had grown exceptionally close in the short amount of time Keigo had been at the palace, and were often found together.  
  


“Keigo,” Katsuki said, gaining the other blonde’s attention. Keigo had asked everyone to drop formalities when addressing him, since they were both royalty, and Katsuki easily complied with the request, so long as Keigo did the same for Katsuki. “Can I talk to you for a bit?”  
  


Dabi caught on quickly to the fact that Katsuki meant _alone_. He didn’t seem too upset about it, merely shrugging and leaving quickly, claiming he’d simply go and pester Twice over something or the other. Keigo looked to Katsuki quizzically, and the ash blonde didn’t blame him. Katsuki had rarely sought out Keigo’s presence, and they’d only talked a handful of times, mainly in a group setting. But Katsuki wanted to follow through with a future alliance with Fukuoka, and that ultimately meant strengthening relations with the future King as well.  
  


“What’s up, man?” Keigo asked, following after Katsuki as he set a brisk pace through the gardens. Keigo trailed leisurely behind him, admiring the scenery, despite the fact he’d been in there often enough to have seen it all at least three times.  
  


“I just figured we should probably try to form a better relationship with each other. Plus, I’m curious about Dabi. What do you know about him?” Katsuki asked, receiving a shrug in response.  
  


Keigo silently pondered the question. “I don’t know much. He’s still a pretty big mystery, even to me.” Katsuki huffed at the response, and Keigo pursed his lips, before continuing. “I can tell you what I do know, though.”  
  


“That being?” Katsuki questioned.  
  


“His real isn’t Dabi, and he’s originally from here. I think he ran away from home, too. Based on what I’ve heard, his home life was shit. I wouldn’t blame him if that really were the case, y’know?” Keigo explained, and Katsuki hummed his agreement. “Some dude named Giran is the one who found him, and brought him to King Shigaraki. The rest, to me, is basically a mystery. He doesn’t talk about himself much.”  
  


Katsuki shrugged. “Still good to know.” The blonde admitted, and Keigo nodded. “I, for one, don’t trust him, though. Or anyone from Shigaraki’s shitty Kingdom, for that matter.”  
  


“Why?” Keigo asked, confusion lacing his tone.  
  


Katsuki sighed, before explaining the current situation between Shizuoka and Akuyaku to Keigo, who took it all in wordlessly. “Damn,” he said eventually. “But are you sure? Have these theories been confirmed?”  
  


“It doesn’t matter,” Katsuki snapped, shoving his hands roughly into the pockets of his pants. “This is war. There’s no time for hesitation. The question is, will we have Fukuoka backing us up in our fight or not?”  
  


Keigo’s lips pulled downwards into a frown, before he slowly shook his head. He shot Katsuki an understandably apologetic look, before explaining, “I’m here to set up an alliance with Shizuoka, yes. But, the opportunity arose, and I’m trying to strike a deal between Fukuoka and Akuyaku as well. My standings in this war are to remain perfectly neutral, if all goes as planned.”  
  


“And what if you’re unable to form an alliance with Akuyaku? What then?” Katsuki asked. Akuyaku had noticeably stronger forces than Shizuoka, but no current alliances with any other nations, unlike Shizuoka. The more aid Shizuoka is able to receive during the war, the better their odds.  
  


“I will not have my nation partake in any unnecessary wars unless a direct act or declaration of war is directed at us. I want Fukuoka to become a peaceful, and prosperous nation. We need more allies than enemies, and constantly fighting wars that don’t concern us won’t do much good.” Keigo explained, although he at least had the decency to sound sorry for refusing Katsuki’s request outright.  
  


“You can’t avoid war forever,” Katsuki reminded him. Keigo sagely nodded his head in agreement.  
  


“I can do my best. Each Kingdom that I’ve known of has some sort of _goal_ , or something they’re most known for. Shizuoka is after sustainability, whereas Akuyaku wants to conquer.” Keigo began explaining. “Hiroshima has always been known for their strength, and Ban’no represents freedom. As it is now, Fukuoka is just . . . _there._ We don’t _stand_ for anything, and I want that to change. I want peace across the whole nation, and easier lives for my people altogether. The goal is for everyone—from a common farmer, to a business associate, to nobles, or military officials— _everyone_ to have so much free time on their hands, they don’t know what to do with it.”  
  


“That’s an admirable goal,” Katsuki admitted. “But how realistic is it? How long would it last if you were to achieve it?” He questioned. There were holes in Keigo’s logic. Surely, a nation couldn’t avoid war for _too_ long. Or, what if whoever came to power after Keigo didn’t have the same mindset regarding Fukuoka? All his hard work would simply be washed down the drain.  
  


Keigo gazed dejectedly at the ground as he walked. “I don’t know, honestly. But, I still have to try. It’s a King’s duty to do everything in his power to protect and help his people, right?”  
  


“You’re not the King,” Katsuki pointed out. Keigo shrugged.  
  


“ _Yet_.”

* * *

Katsuki had forgotten how much he enjoyed going on hikes, whether it be alone, or with Akira. It was nice, with the brisk mountain air crisply whipping against his unprotected face as he made the trek along the mountainside. The new presence by his side was something he wasn’t necessarily used to, but Shiozaki wasn’t unwelcome by any means.  
  


The green-haired girl seemed perfectly in her element while surrounded by nature, which was a welcomed change from her usual, closed-off demeanor.  
  


“What’s your family like?” Katsuki questioned, hoping to get a lengthier response from the usually quiet girl. He hadn’t had much luck throughout the majority of their hike, although Shiozaki had notably loosened up more than usual.  
  


“I come from a very religious family,” she said airily. “Most religious practices aren’t followed very heavily now-a-days, but my parents are an exception, as am I. I don’t talk about my religion often, though, since most people disagree with my beliefs.”  
  


Katsuki grunted. “That’s stupid. Believe whatever the hell you wanna believe, it’s your fucking life.” Shiozaki smiled minutely, although Katsuki assumed she probably didn’t like his vulgar language much. Katsuki had yet to hear the girl curse, and she didn’t seem to tolerate it much either.  
  


“Yes, it is my life, and my decisions. Not everyone sees it that way, I must remind you.” She said, in her usual, overly polite tone, although Katsuki was beginning to believe she spoke that way with everyone, and not just him. “No matter, I could very well be believing in a false God that never existed. In the end, it does no harm to me, or others.”  
  


Katsuki hummed in agreement. He, himself, had never followed after any particular religion. Science often brought up a perfectly reasonable explanation for the many wonders of the world, and it left no reason for the blonde to believe of otherworldly beings watching over them from the heavens. In current times, religion was often considered a rather trivial matter, and few people or families followed after old religious practices.  
  


“What’s your family like? Outside of the public eye, I mean.” Shiozaki questioned. “I’ve seen of them a couple times, and I understand that your persona is rather similar to the aura you give off on television, but is the same true for your parents?”  
  


“My old man’s pretty much the same on- and off-screen,” Katsuki admitted. “The old hag’s more of a bitch when she’s not on the Report. Dad’s always saying we’re too alike for our own good, but I’d like to think I’m not _that_ much like her.”  
  


Shiozaki silently inspected Katsuki for a moment, making the blonde shift uncomfortably. “You certainly look alike, that’s for certain. If the King really is as meek as he is on-screen, then I can definitely say you’re nothing like him. You can be overly aggressive at times, unlike him. At least your manners aren’t _horrible_ , at least.”  
  


“My manners are _just fine_ , thanks,” Katsuki snapped dryly, although Shiozaki didn’t react to his bitter tone. “As if you would know, anyways.”  
  


“I’ll have you know, I come from a very refined family.” Shiozaki claimed defensively, and Katsuki openly mocked her—teasingly, of course. “Oh, would you stop?” She said in an exasperated tone, and the blonde shot her a shit-eating grin.  
  


“Sorry, no can do,” the blonde said, shrugging nonchalantly. Shiozaki merely huffed, although Katsuki noticed a small smile make its way onto her face.  
  


He glanced back to the hiking trail, admiring the scenery, which alm0st seemed to blend in with Shiozaki’s hair for the most part. When they finally reached the top, Katsuki sat down to admire the view. It was on he hadn’t seen in a few years, and it made the blonde realize just how many things he was missing out on while being trapped inside the palace. He’d nearly forgotten how beautiful it was just to bask in the fading golden rays of the sun.  
  


“You look content,” Shiozaki said softly, coming to gently take a seat beside of Katsuki, who nodded. He shut his vermillion eyes, letting the cool, evening air fill his remaining senses. “You also seem . . . nostalgic, almost.”  
  


Once again, Katsuki nodded. “I haven’t been up here in a while.” He admitted. He trailed his hands along the ground beneath him, grounding him, and took a deep breath, letting in the airy scent surrounding him. “I forgot how amazing it was. How amazing it _is_.”  
  


“I’m glad I was able to share this moment with you,” Shiozaki said, smiling gently, and looking out at the tremendous view before her.

* * *

Shiozaki was glad she’d received a date this late in the Selection. During the first two or three dates, everyone would swarm their competitors whenever they returned, demanding details. Now, people still obviously cared, but they’d usually figure out other ways to seek out that information, and Shiozaki was happier for it. She didn’t know if she’d be able to handle large crowds swarming her all at once.  
  


She easily made her way over to her new group of friends, although she’d originally been a bit reluctant to call them that. Due to her religious upbringings, she didn’t have many friends in the past, since religion was such a controversial and frowned upon concept. The idea that anyone would want to genuinely be _friends_ with her was originally hard for Shiozaki to accept, but she was slowly but surely getting well-acquainted with the idea.  
  


At times, Neito could be hellishly annoying, and competitive beyond belief. At the same time, he was kind of overprotective, in the way he would loyally defend her and the others there. While the eccentric blonde had never had much of a preference towards the other Selected, and had admitted to willingly getting down and dirty with them if it came to it, Shiozaki doubted he would do the same to her and Tetsutetsu. Considering how cunning Neito is, she was a little glad of the fact.  
  


Kendo was who Shiozaki found herself being most compatible with, unsurprisingly. The redhead was strong beyond belief, in mind, body, _and_ spirit. Shiozaki admired her, and equivocally so did Neito and Tetsutetsu. Even Katsuki had a surplus of respect for the girl, and that was a feat in itself.  
  


Shiozaki constantly wondered why Tetsutetsu’s parents _willingly_ named him that, but she wasn’t necessarily complaining. The silver-haired boy’s hilarious name had often been the butt of many jokes they’d shared. Tetsutetsu didn’t seem to mind all that much, although he’d always protest when they’d tease him for it. While he was strong-willed, and obnoxiously loud, he was the one Shiozaki was most put-off by. And that was because of his undeniable crush on Kendo.  
  


He was always staring at her, or complimenting her, and Shiozaki could tell just by his expression and body language that his feelings ran deeper than just friendship. Seemingly, though, he acted the same way towards Katsuki, reinforcing the fact that he certainly had feelings for the ash blonde as well.  
  


While Shiozaki had never questioned Tetsutetsu over the matter, she’d silently been pondering it for more than a week, now. She oftentimes didn’t speak up during discussions, and everyone just assumed she was listening in. Half-heartedly, she was, but most times she would use this opportunity to think, only joining in on whatever the others were talking about when she was openly asked something.  
  


Now was, of course, one of those times, and Shiozaki snapped to attention at the calling of her name. She stared quizzically at Neito, who had been the one to call her out. “Are you going to tell us about your date?” He asked pointedly, arching a singular brow.  
  


Shiozaki shrugged, fiddling absentmindedly with a lock of her thick, green hair. “That depends on what you want to know,” she remarked elusively.  
  


“You two went for a hike, right?” Kendo asked, and Shiozaki silently nodded in response. “Was the view nice?”  
  


The mountain trail they’d hiked had led up to a cliff overlooking the palace, and she had been able to see every part of it. Up close, the palace was magnificent, but it was even more pristine from above. She’d burned the sight into her memory, in case she’d never have the chance to view it again, although Shiozaki sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case.  
  


“It was beautiful,” she said earnestly, continuing to twirl her hair around her finger, avoiding eye contact. It always made talking to others harder.  
  


“What did you and the Prince talk about?” Tetsutetsu questioned excitedly.  
  


Shiozaki recalled that their former conversations hadn’t been anything to brag about, really. She’d found herself undeniably more at peace than she ever felt in the palace, and it made it easier to talk to the blonde, but besides that they hadn’t talked about anything interesting, per se. Mainly, Katsuki had asked questions about her life and there’d been some light-hearted teasing thrown into the mix.  
  


“Not much,” she replied simply. Details were inevitably unnecessary. “He asked a lot of questions about me.”  
  


“I hope you gave him longer answers than you give us,” Neito remarked mindlessly. “One or two word answers is no way to charm a man.”  
  


“As if you would know,” Kendo said, staring blankly at the currently offended blonde. Neito made weak attempts at protest, which Kendo deflected easily.  
  


“ _Anyways_ ,” Tetsutetsu said pointedly, effectively cutting off the current stream of bickering falling haplessly between Kendo and Neito. “He’s still got one more date today, yeah?”  
  


Kendo nodded sagely, although Shiozaki couldn’t recall whether the answer was yes or no. She didn’t often pay close enough attention to Aizawa’s ‘announcements’ to recall them at a later date, the exception being when she’d had her name announced for a private date.  
  


“How did you not know, Tetsu?” Kendo asked bemusedly. “You’re _going_ on the date tonight!”  
  


A look a panic crossed Tetsutetsu’s face briefly. “Shit, you’re right!”  
  


“Language,” Shiozaki chided mildly.  
  


“ _Crap_ , you’re right!” Tetsutetsu corrected himself aloud, earning a chuckle from Kendo. “What are we doing on the date, again, Kendo?”  
  


“Petting zoo,” she replied immediately.  
  


Tetsutetsu could be a little unobservant at times, so it was unsurprising that Kendo had known more about his group date than even he did.  
  


Shiozaki had also noticed that there’d been an increase in the amount of dates Katsuki was going on in the past week, and she figured it was probably so everyone had something to talk about on the Report the next day. Her maids already had a dress prepared, and had been waiting for a while for her to wear it. It was one of the nicest in her closet, as well as being appropriately formal and respectable. She was pairing the dark green satin with her new necklace that she’d gotten from a local town jeweler.  
  


While she’d never much cared to put an emphasis on her looks in general, most of the female Selected had realized by now that a majority of the maids absolutely _loved_ makeovers. When it came to shoes, hair, accessories, dresses, and more, the maids absolutely went to _town_ in doing the Selected up in the nicest get-up they could make. The guys always looked exceptionally nice at all times, but the time it took for them to get ready was nearly half as much time as it took for the women.  
  


Shiozaki felt she was readily prepared for the Report when it came tomorrow. She had a stunning outfit planned, and her maids had helped quiz her for several hours on possible questions Yamada might ask, helping her to get better at coming up with eloquent and sufficient responses on the spot, as well as have preconceived replies already in her mind for certain questions before they were asked.  
  


She only wondered how others would fair during the live television segment. After this Report, magazines all over would be holding a poll for Shizuoka’s citizens to vote on their favorite Selected candidate so far. A lot of the Selected were anxiously anticipating the results. The people’s opinion could decidedly go a long way, and Shiozaki silently feared for her and her friends.  
  


By friends, she mostly meant Tetsutetsu. Kendo obviously wasn’t participating anymore, so she had nothing to fear. Neito had a persuasive personality by nature, and Shiozaki figured he’d win the people over easily. Knowing him, he’d probably use some sort of sob story from his past, mention his undeniable wealth, show off his rich education, and go on about his endless devotion to Katsuki. He was predictable, in that regard.  
  


But Tetsutetsu didn’t have the social influencing skills that Neito possessed, and he hadn’t been raised in a household as refined as the on Shiozaki had been born into. His manners were severely lacking, and he didn’t have many prince-like qualities to offer Shizuoka’s citizens. The silver-haired man acted like a more impulsive, and slightly more annoying version of Eijiro, in a way. While Shiozaki personally didn’t mind all that much, she wondered how others would react.  
  


The green-haired girl doubted he’d get a very high ranking when it came to the people’s opinion, but she also knew that he wouldn’t mind all that much either. Knowing those around her, she figured those like Shoto or Momo would rank highly, and probably someone outgoing and friendly like Mina or Eijiro would do so as well.  
  


When thinking of who she wanted to get a good ranking, other than herself and her friends, first and foremost, she also thought of another. She’d never made any attempt to get close to him, although she’d certainly considered it in the past. From what she’d seen of him, he was kind by nature and one of the smartest people in the room. He’d make a fair, and gracious ruler, for certain.  
  


Shiozaki eyed the man from the corner of her eye, silently wishing him the best of luck.

* * *

“Aww!” Nejire squealed excitably, rushing towards the multitude of animals filling the space. “So cute!”  
  


“What a mad banquet of darkness . . .” Fumikage muttered, looking around mildly.  
  


“You say that a lot,” Tetsutetsu pointed out, receiving a mere shrug in response from the boy in question. “Woah, a peacock! So manly!”  
  


“All you extras are too fucking loud!” Katsuki yelled, twice the volume of anyone else.  
  


“So much passion!” Inasa said excitedly, making Katsuki growl at the noise. “I love it!”  
  


“Hey, hey, what animals can we pet?” Nejire exclaimed, and by that point, most of the Selected were just talking over one another.  
  


“Any one’s you like. Don’t get bit.” Katsuki said bitterly.  
  


The blonde had brought Blasty with him too, and the small dog was running around, sniffing all the animal pens enthusiastically. Tetsutetsu and Nejire were incredulously admiring the lone peacock, whereas Inasa had found his way over to the snakes. Tokoyami seemed perfectly at peace surrounded by birds, and a lone raven had found its way onto the boys shoulder, resting there contentedly.  
  


The animals at the palace were always taken good care of, and were given ample opportunities to roam about in an open space. Usually, they didn’t stay indoors, but today was a special case. They were sure to make a pretty big mess, although Katsuki had already offered to help clean up afterwards. His date, his mess.  
  


“Oh, oh, there’s a koala here!?” Nejire squeals, rushing over to admire the marsupial as it lazily lounged around. She spotted a sloth not too far away as well. “Aww, so precious!”  
  


“You really like animals, huh Hado?” Tetsutetsu asked, and the blue-haired girl nodded her head eagerly.  
  


“I love them so much!” The excitable girl gushed, reaching out a gentle hand towards the koala, waiting to see how the animal would react. It didn’t seem to mind her presence much, so she gently placed a hand atop its head.  
  


“You seem so passionate! That’s amazing!” Inasa shouted, spooking off most animals in his vicinity, although the nearly bald man hardly seemed to notice.  
  


“Shut the fuck up baldy! You’re scaring off all the fucking animals!” Katsuki yelled.  
  


“You’re louder than him . . .” Fumikage pointed out quietly, and Katsuki growled in the dark-haired male’s direction.  
  


Fumikage had somehow managed to attract several more birds to him, and he had around five perched on his arms and his head, although he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, the raven-haired boy seemed to like the birds’ presence.  
  


Katsuki had yet to openly approach any animals, although eventually Blasty made his way back over to the ash blonde, curling up on Katsuki’s lap and promptly falling asleep. The action prompted loud cooing from Nejire, who he explicitly told to “Fuck off!”  
  


The blonde felt a presence beside him, and looked over to find Fumikage sliding to take a seat next to Katsuki, leaning against the wall. The birds were still clinging to him desperately, although one flitted onto the blonde’s shoulder and gently pecked at his face. Katsuki scowled, although he made no move to shoo away the winged creature.  
  


“Why not interact with any animals? This was your date idea, anyways.” The man pointed out, and the blonde’s scowl merely deepened.  
  


“Animals don’t like me much. _Usually,_ at least.” He looked at the dog in his lap, and the bird on his shoulder menacingly, but neither stirred.  
  


“Still,” Fumikage protested mildly. “Try and have some fun. Or else, what’s the point?”  
  


Katsuki supposed he made a fair point. After carefully removing Blasty from his current position, and setting the now awake dog on the ground, Katsuki stood up, causing the bird on his shoulder to stir slightly.  
  


“Is that idiot still messing with the damned peacock?” Katsuki asked gruffly, gesturing to Tetsutetsu, who had yet to look at or pet any other animals in the room, instead decidedly spending his time admiring the peacock, which he’d slowly but surely crept closer to without protest.  
  


“It would appear so,” Fumikage said in a tired tone. “I think he wants him to trust him.”  
  


It certainly was a plausible idea. While he did that, Nejire already had a koala wrapped up in her arms, and clinging to her torso. Inasa had a noticeably large snack wrapped around his shoulders, and he was gently stroking the creature’s head as it hissed, in a surprisingly non-menacing way.  
  


Blasty trotted after Katsuki and Fumikage loyally, sticking by the blonde’s side. The dog had taken an instant liking to Katsuki, as well as most of the Selected. Funnily enough, every time Neito got within a close vicinity of the dog, he’d start snarling and growling at the eccentric blonde, causing him to back off slightly.  
  


“What’s your favorite animal, Prince Bakugou?” Nejire asked, smiling brightly at him from where she sat with the koala. The sloth had slowly, bit by bit, been making its approach towards the blue-haired girl, and she seemed excited the animal was taking an interest in her.  
  


The blonde shrugged. The first thing that came to mind was how much he enjoyed horse-back riding. “Horses, I guess,” he said nonchalantly.  
  


Tetsutetsu deadpanned. “I think she meant an animal in here,” he pointed out, and Katsuki scowled, realizing his misunderstanding.  
  


“It’s fine!” Nejire said hurriedly, tilting her head to the side. “That bird seems to like you! Aww, isn’t he just the cutest?!”  
  


“Sure,” Katsuki said in a bored tone, hardly listening as Nejire continued rambling on and on about something that he wasn’t paying attention to. Tetsutetsu piped up every now and then, including his own opinion into the discussion.  
  


“Hey, hey, Prince Bakugou!” Nejire called, grabbing the blonde’s attention. “Did you really wear a dress?”  
  


Tetsutetsu looked as though he was attempting to stifle his laughter, although Inasa clearly didn’t have the decency to do so. Fumikage mindlessly stroked a hand through a raven’s feathers, seeming oblivious to the chatter surrounding him.  
  


Everyone in the room was able to surmise Katsuki’s answer by the way he blushed furiously, turning his head away with a scowl to hide the way his face flushed. That had not been a necessarily proud moment for Katsuki, even though both Akira and Camie had agreed he’d looked amazing. Of course, he _always_ looked amazing, but could that still be true when he was forced to wear an ensemble consisting of a frilly pink dress, high heels, and _makeup_ of all things?  
  


Despite their light-hearted teasing, Katsuki found himself thoroughly enjoying the company he was currently with, and even joined in on the discussion every now and then, with Fumikage muttered edgy phrases beside of him at random times.  
  


Katsuki had initially been worried about the fact that no one in the group of 35 would be able to love him, and while the fear was still presenting itself in Katsuki’s mind, another problem arose. He felt himself growing attached to most of the Selected, and the blonde wasn’t sure how he was going to do it. He didn’t know how he would ever be able to turn down _19_ more men and women before making a decision.  
  


How would he even be able to make a decision at all?

* * *

“What’s up, Dabi?” Toga asked, mindlessly twirling a strand of her hair as she awaited the scarred man’s response.  
  


Dabi had asked her and Twice to meet with him that night, although he hadn’t said what about. Toga had some questions of her own, namely about Dabi and that foreign prince named Keigo, but decided they could wait. If Dabi specifically wanted to meet to discuss something with them, it was probably important.  
  


“The sky,” he deadpanned, and Toga stuck out her tongue in retribution. “I wanted to know what information you two have gathered so far.”  
  
  


Toga perked up at this, smiling wickedly. “I haven’t spent much time with the Prince, but I do have something to share!” She pulled out a small notepad she’d been using, since she often tended to be forgetful. “I think I’ve got a decent idea of the guard rotations! I’ve been talking with some of them, and observing, and I’ve noticed some weaker areas that don’t have as much defense. We could probably exploit those areas if we wanted to try and sneak in or out.”  
  


Dabi looked over her notes, humming his approval. “Good job, Toga. See if you can get any information out of the Prince, or even the Selected, possibly.” He instructed, and the blonde girl nodded, her smile widening. “Try talking to some of the dumber of the Selected. The Prince is smart, so you’ll have to be careful around him, or else he might catch on to what we’re doing. Twice, have you found out anything useful?”  
  


“Nope, not a thing,” he said dejectedly, before immediately perking up. “Yeah, I’ve got loads of information!”  
  


Dabi sighed, frowning. “I can’t tell who’s telling the truth . . .” he muttered, and looked to Toga, who merely shrugged. “If you find anything out, bring it to me.”  
  


Twice nodded exuberantly, before pouting and shaking his head angrily. “Before you go, care to tell us about that Prince you’re always hanging out with? Keigo, I believe his name was?” Toga asked, smiling cunningly.  
  


Surprisingly, Dabi’s face flushed considerably. He coughed awkwardly, trying to stifle his mild embarrassment. “There’s nothing going on between us. I’m just trying to gather intel.” He lied, and Toga rolled her eyes.  
  


“Yeah, sure,” she said, disbelief clear in her tone.  
  


“I believe him,” Twice said earnestly, before backtracking hurriedly. “You’ve totally got the hots for the foreign Prince!”  
  


Toga started giggling madly, before Dabi shouted his denial. “I do _not_.” He snapped hotly. “Moving on to more _important_ matters,” he muttered angrily. “I’ll be sending Shigaraki a letter containing the schedule you gave me, as well as a map of the palace I’ve drawn out. Whenever it comes time for Prince Bakugou to make his decision, if he doesn’t choose one of us to marry, then . . .  
  


“We attack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My attempts are drama are.. lacking, to say the least. I always struggle with finding ways to resolve conflict, but I'm trying. This fic will most likely result in a war, tbh
> 
> Anyways, like I said before, next chapter will be the Report. There won't be any dates then but probably some mild interaction between the Prince and the Selected. I've gone pretty much full circle, and at this point I believe everyone has either gotten a private date or a group date. If anyone has any more suggestions for who could be the first to receive ANOTHER date.
> 
> Here's the list of the remaining 20 Selected, as well as their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> I'll have the next chapter out on Friday! Hope you liked this chapter!


	20. I've Got All This Panic and No Invitation to the Disco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T h a n k g o d school is o v e r. And happy pride month everyoneeee :D (stay safe!)
> 
> I'm so sorry in advance Tamaki, you poor thing. But... angst...
> 
> Enjoy ;P

Meetings with Kendo had become a recurring event in Katsuki’s life, as the ever-present threat of a possible sneak attack from Akuyaku flooded his mind with terror. He wasn’t often frightened easily, but the impending war loomed over him surreptitiously, and he was unable to evade the constant unwanted thoughts. Being with Kendo, or Aizawa to strategize made him feel useful, at the least, but it was all he could do to stave off the waning panic.  
  


He reminded himself constantly to remain calm. After all, he had no concrete evidence to prove that Akuyaku had any hidden agenda, aside from his and others’ suspicions. But paranoia creeped into his mind at an alarming speed, and left him defenseless against the conspiracies that threatened to fill his head. He’d always been able to work coolly under pressure, but he’d never had to hold the fate of his Kingdom in his hands until now. If he failed, then he’d have failed all of Shizuoka, and left them to suffer the wrath of Akuyaku’s subjugative desires.  
  


At that moment, he was sitting with Kendo and Akira in his room, planning strategies to prevent anyone from attacking the palace, although their attempts thus fair seemed fruitless. The palace was already near impenetrable, and while they could up defenses slightly, it wouldn’t make much of a difference in the end. They couldn’t merely fix what wasn’t broken, and their armed forces weren’t strong enough to waste by sending more men to protect the palace. A war was brewing, and they needed as many soldiers out on the battlefield as they could get.  
  


Which led to another dilemma entirely—Katsuki was sure he’d solved that very problem, and that was by increasing the draft. If they drafted more men, in shorter spans of time, their army would increase by tenfold. For some unfathomable reason, unbeknownst to him, Kendo and Akira were completely against the idea.  
  


“If we increase the number of men we draft,” Katsuki spat out through noticeably grit teeth. “Then we can have an army two _times_ the size we have now! Right now, it’s the best fucking bet we’ve got to get the upper hand.”  
  


Kendo shook her head, eyebrows furrowed in visible anger. Over what, Katsuki had yet to figure out. His plan was _foolproof_ , surely. So why were they so upset about it? Shizuoka had been drafting commoners for _years_ , and over time they’d steadily increased how many men they’d drafted. This time would be a much more drastic change, but it was doable by all means.  
  


“We _can’t_ ,” she said venomously, a tone Katsuki wasn’t used to hearing from Kendo. “If you want to increase our numbers, then stop letting higher castes pay their way out of the draft. If you get drafted, that’s _final_. I’d bet that at least three-quarters of the army are men from lower castes, no doubt. And there’s your other issue.”  
  


Akira nodded along, as though she understood, although Katsuki was lost. There _were_ no issues . . . right?  
  


“She’s right, Katsuki,” Akira agreed, in a much calmer tone. “We can’t afford to have people buying their way out of drafting. It’s unfair to those who _can’t_. And the other problem she’s referring to is, quite frankly, the fact that the draft is only for _men_. Women are, without a doubt, just as capable. You’re well aware of this, I’m sure.”  
  


Katsuki’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment, before realization struck. “You want us to draft women too?”  
  


Kendo grinned. “Looks like ya finally caught on,” she remarked offhandedly.  
  


Akira’s smile was wide enough to match Kendo’s own. “Exactly! Us girls can fight too, if we’re given a chance! Make that opportunity happen, Katsuki. I know you can.” Undoubted faith was evident in Akira’s tawny eyes.  
  


She may believe in him, but could Katsuki have that same trust in _himself_?

* * *

Tamaki had a full week to prepare for his interview on the Report that night, but he still felt wholly overwhelmed. Even with the countless hours he’d spent practicing in front of the mirror, or with Mirio and Nejire, as soon as he was sat under the brightly lit fluorescent lights, bile rose in his throat, and blood rushed through his ears. He couldn’t hear, the blood pounding in waves filling his eardrums nonsensically, until that was all there was left. His vision blurred, and blackened, and panic rose up in his throat, clawing desperately for relief, release.  
  


He wasn’t even directly on screen yet, still sat amongst his fellow Selected, but to him it felt as though no one else was in the room. Desperately, he wanted to back into the far corner and hide himself in the wall, invisible as always. Alas, he could do no such thing, with the overwhelming multitude of cameras facing him from all directions.  
  


Numbly, he acknowledged that the Queen was strutting up to the center of the studio, and making a short announcement. He watched as she took her seat once more, but his eyes weren’t truly processing what he was seeing. His senses felt dull, and his head was throbbing. Everything was numb, numb, numb, and so he focused on the pain his head was causing. Anything to distract him, anything to make him feel _something_.  
  


A nudge to the shoulder distracted him from his spiraling thoughts, and glanced up timidly to find all the cameras pointed in his direction. Yamada was looking at him, smiling, although it didn’t reach his eyes. Instead, his entrancing green eyes flickered with a hint of masked worry, buried deep down that Tamaki nearly didn’t catch it. But still, he saw. He was used to seeing the same expression on Mirio’s face, constantly, whenever his anxiety grew out of hand due to unfortunate circumstances.  
  


Tamaki hated making people worry, especially Mirio. Mirio; who had dedicated his entire career and future into better learning how to comfort him, who had stuck by his side even despite his severe anxiety and timidity to any and all people, even when Tamaki constantly pushed him away. He stayed. He was loyal beyond belief, and upsetting Mirio was like a stab to the heart. He couldn’t inflict that sort of pain on yet another kind, unsuspecting man. It was so _unfair_ of him, wasn’t it?  
  


After all, this was all his fault, right? Why couldn’t he be stronger, like Mirio? Why couldn’t he smile, and laugh, like everyone else? Why did he have to be so _scared_ all the time? What was he to be scared of? They were gone, weren’t they? No one here was going to hurt him. He knew that. _He knew that.  
  
_

So, why was he so _afraid_?  
  


An all-encompassing, gut-wrenching fear that constantly threatened to consume him. Even completing the simplest of tasks for others could spiral him into an anxiety attack, and everyone around him was left to clean up the mess.  
  


Tamaki couldn’t do that to Yamada. It was unfair of him to do so, especially since the man hardly knew him. He needed to _suck it up_ , and move on. Work past his crippling anxiety, and become a regular, functioning member of society. He _had_ to.  
  


_But what if they were right?_

* * *

_It was a cold winter’s evening, with snow falling in little ringlets upon the ground, glistening coolly under the pale sun. Tamaki always detested walking home from school each day, especially during the frosty, winter months. He’d never been able to afford warm enough clothing to suit his needs, but it was no matter. There was nothing he could do, after all.  
  
_

_If he was lucky, he’d be left to his own devices that day. Surely, Ratan had better ways to spend his time than beating up on him constantly.  
  
_

_Alas, Tamaki was never quite the lucky one.  
  
_

_Ratan ambushed him from behind, his favorite method of attack. Why he thought so meticulously on the best ways to make Tamaki’s life a living hell evaded the small, raven-haired boy. He never had time to dwell on it. His thoughts were often filled with means to escape, and most often his train of thought ended with one singular word:_ run _.  
  
_

_And run he did. Ratan gave good chase too, despite how fast Tamaki had grown over the years. He had experience from constantly evading bullies, Ratan in particular, and it showed in his speedy, quick movement, nearly imperceptible at first glance. But no matter his speed, Ratan was always one step ahead, always faster, smarter, stronger.  
  
_

_Tamaki could never_ dream _of keeping up. Ratan was his superior in every way, and the redheaded boy made sure Tamaki was well aware of that fact. He engrained the supposed lesson into Tamaki’s skull every day through means of fists and violence. That was always Ratan’s way, and Tamaki knew by now not to object to the borderline torture Ratan cast at him each day. It would only grow worse if he fought back.  
  
_

_“You’re so weak, Amajiki,” Ratan snarled, punching him square in the nose.  
  
_

_A burst of pain sprung from where he’d been struck, and blood gushed down his face at an overwhelming rate. The raven-haired boy collapsed to the ground, leaving himself open to more attacks. Ratan was quick to take advantage of this, and kicked him fiercely in the gut, receiving harsh coughs to force their ways from Tamaki’s lungs in return.  
  
_

_“You never stand up for yourself.” Ratan pointed out, smiling wickedly, his unnaturally sharp canines glinting maliciously. “Why is that?”  
  
_

_Ratan was well aware of why Tamaki didn’t. He’d tried once, and that’d left him with a withering concussion and multiple broken ribs. After that, he’d certainly learned his lesson. It was best to just sit there, and take it. Eventually, Ratan would get bored of him, and leave. While the pain never evaded him, it was better than it could’ve been.  
  
_

_“I asked you a fucking question!” Ratan said viciously, kicking him yet again.  
  
_

_Tamaki curled up into a ball, holding his arms over his stomach so they’d take any further brunt of the damage. He coughed harshly, the metallic tang of blood slowly beginning to fill his mouth.  
  
_

_“I-I’m too w-weak to f-fight you, R-Ratan,” Tamaki forced out weakly, some of his saliva, mixed unfortunately with blood, dripping down his chin and onto the ever-present, pristine white snow beneath him.  
  
_

_The cold seeped through his clothes, but to his surprising relief, it began numbing his injuries. While he always hated feeling so numb, numb,_ numb _, it was a relief to him then. A little numb was just what he needed. Maybe if he didn’t feel, then Ratan couldn’t hurt him anymore._ No one _could hurt him, anymore.  
  
_

 _Ratan bent down, and Tamaki lazily shifted his gaze to meet that icy stare that continued to haunt his nightmares, to this day. “That’s right, Amajiki,” he said in an eerily calm voice. A manic grin overtook his uncharacteristically serene face. “And you’ll always be nothing but a_ weakling _. A useless fuck up, that no one could ever save. That no one could ever love.”  
  
_

_The redhead stood up, brushing imaginary dirt off his hands, and onto his trousers. He turned away from Tamaki, but the raven-haired boy knew that ever-present smile still held a place on Ratan’s features.  
  
_

_“Don’t bother coming to school tomorrow, Amajiki,” he said coolly, causing Tamaki to shake where he lay, from fear rather than the frosty chill of the air. “No one wants to see your worthless face there anyways. Maybe you should just leave . . . for_ good _.”  
  
_

_He hadn’t said it outright, but Tamaki understood what Ratan was implying. He wasn’t as dense as Ratan made him out to be, although he’d never admit that to the redhead. Saying that would be an act of defiance in Ratan’s eyes, and Tamaki didn’t think he could afford to risk that. But maybe he should. No, not stand up to him, certainly not.  
  
_

_Maybe he should take his advice._

* * *

Panic settled its way deep into Tamaki’s heart, flaring up wildly as the memory resurfaced to the forefront of his mind. He’d been constantly attempting to stave off any memories of his old home, his old life by filling his mind with _new_ memories. Happy ones, with cheerful, smiling blondes.  
  


But even the thought of Mirio’s smiling face couldn’t quench his rising terror. It blossomed in its heart, spreading slowly across his body, leaving him heaving and gasping for air. Dimly, he noticed the lights grow darker and the red dot indicating the cameras were on go out across the room, but he took no note. It wasn’t until strong arms were wrapped around him that he felt safe, and grounded.  
  


He could vaguely hear whoever it was holding him speaking, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. He leaned in towards where the voice was coming from. The side of his head collided with something firm, and the grip around his torso tightened.  
  


“It’s alright, Tamaki, I’m here,” Mirio encouraged in a soothing tone, holding his best friend tightly as he glanced around the room frantically, in a wild panic. “I need you to breathe for me, alright?”  
  


He talked Tamaki, slowly, through a breathing exercise, which seemed to help the raven-haired boy, if only slightly. After years of experience with helping Tamaki with this particular issue of his, Mirio knew what methods were best when helping him, and what was best to avoid.  
  


Tamaki felt another comforting presence approach his side, as his breathing slowly evened out. Yamada placed a hand gently on his arm, making sure Tamaki understood he could pull away if he wanted to. He didn’t.  
  


“Are you okay, little listener?” He asked in a surprisingly small voice in comparison to the normally loud way he spoke. “Let’s get you some peace and quiet, yeah?”  
  


He was taken offstage, by who he believed to be Mirio, but all he could make out was an unassuming blur of blue and yellow. His aura felt safe, like Mirio’s, anyways, so Tamaki curled into the man’s arms, allowing himself to be carried away from the others. They didn’t need to see him break down.  
  


Although, he supposed it was already too late for that.

* * *

Nejire wanted so desperately to do something to help her best friend, as she watched Tamaki lay sobbing and shaking on the floor from an anxiety attack. As much as she wanted to help, she wasn’t entirely sure what to _do_ in order to do so. If she went to him, she’d inevitably do more harm than good, and Tamaki would most likely only panic more. It wasn’t something she was necessarily ready to risk happening.  
  


Luckily, Mirio was there in a split second, scooping Tamaki’s quivering form into his bulky arms, and whispering words of comfort into the raven-haired boy’s ear. His voice remained steady, and he exuded an air of calm that the situation certainly didn’t call for, but Tamaki clung to his presence like a scared child would with their mother.  
  


She watched on helplessly as Mirio carried Tamaki backstage, and Yamada returned to his former seat. The excitable blonde host forced back a smile, although it didn’t reach his eyes. She’d guessed that he wasn’t all that used to something like that happening while they were live, but basing on the way he stepped in, he had to have at least some experience.  
  


Nejire wasn’t nearly as good at concealing her worry as Yamada clearly was, but she did her best to smile brightly for the cameras when he called her name and asked her to begin their interview.  
  


“Hey! What’s your name, little listener?” He asked in a forcibly chipper voice. It seems they all were a little shaken up.  
  


“Oh, hey, Hizashi! My name’s Hado Nejire, so nice to meetcha!” She stretched out her hand, and Yamada shook it.  
  


“Really, the pleasure’s all mine, dear,” he said in a booming voice, so different from the soft tones he’d used around Tamaki. “Tell us a bit about yourself, Nejire.”  
  


“Oh! Well, I come from a family of four, although my big brother’s already up and moved out by now. He got married to his best friend, isn’t that so romantic?” Nejire asked dreamily.  
  


She’d always loved the story between her brother and his wife, who was soon-to-be a mother. It was likely that Nejire would still be at the palace when the baby was born, but so long as they sent pictures, and she was allowed to babysit if she returned, then she was perfectly content with staying where she was.  
  


But that didn’t stop her from dreaming for a romance like her brother’s. Katsuki was younger than her, but handsome by all means. Nejire figured she would be able to handle his brash nature fairly well, and that statement proved to be true thus far. She only hoped a love could blossom between her and Katsuki like it had for her brother.  
  


Yamada held the same dreamy look in his eyes. “Oh, yeah, that sounds amazing! I can’t necessarily say my personal romantic experiences are anything for the ages, but I’m happy nonetheless,” the blonde man glanced lovingly at Aizawa, who returned the look with the barest hints of a smile.  
  


“That’s so refreshing to hear,” Nejire said, the lovesick look filling Yamada’s eyes not making it past her. “They must be an amazing person.”  
  


“Sure are!” Yamada agreed enthusiastically, his face breaking out into a broad grin. “Have you got anyone like that in your life, Nejire?”  
  


“I’m hoping Prince Bakugou will be them!” She chirped enthusiastically. “Wouldn’t that be a dream come true?”  
  


Yamada grinned. “I’m certain it would be.” He agreed, earnestly. “Although, I’d have to say, I don’t think anyone could top my husband.”  
  


If Nejire seemed shocked by the fact that he was married to another man, she didn’t show it. Obviously, she must hold no prejudice against same-sex marriage, considering the fact that Katsuki had openly admitted he found both men and women to be attracted. Yamada personally suspected the ash blonde might be pansexual, considering how he normally doesn’t give a shit about anything. Why would gender be any different?  
  


“He must be one hell of a guy, if you think he’s even better than Prince Bakugou!” She said.  
  


“He most definitely is,” Yamada agreed, winking at Aizawa in his peripheral. His husband merely scoffed in return, but Yamada caught the fond look in his eyes regardless. “And I believe that concludes the time we have together, Nejire. Thank you for your time, it most certainly was a pleasure!”  
  


“Oh, the pleasure’s all mine, Hizashi!”

* * *

Watching Tamaki go through a severe anxiety attack _right_ in front of him shook Neito more than he’d care to admit. He’d never been close to the raven-haired boy, but he wasn’t so much of a dick so as to not feel sympathy for him. Besides, he’d never viewed Tamaki as much of a threat, so he held no malicious intent towards the anxiety-ridden boy.  
  


Hado Nejire, on the other hand, was a _huge_ threat in Neito’s eyes. She was undeniably beautiful, and had a fun personality to go with her stunning looks. No doubt she’d rank fairly well based on public opinion. But all that mattered was that Neito ranked the _highest_.  
  


And anyone who ranked higher than him, he’d just have to take care of.  
  


He plastered on a smile for the camera. “Hey, there, Hizashi!” He said in the most charming tone he could muster. “My name’s Neito Monoma. What a pleasure it is to be on the Report, with you especially!”  
  


Yamada returned his smile. “So nice to meetcha, Neito! Tell us a bit about yourself!” He said enthusiastically.  
  


“Well,” Neito began, trying to think of what direction he wanted this introduction to go in.  
  


He needed to guide the conversation, without being too obvious about it, which was considerably easier said than done.  
  


“There’s not much to say, really,” he said with an air of unabashed nonchalance. “I was a Two before coming here, although the hope is, of course, to end up as a One, y’know?”  
  


“Hopefully, that’s the sort of mindset _all_ the Selected have.” Yamada remarked. Oddly enough, his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, unlike usual. “What would you say makes you stand out from the rest?”  
  


Neito allowed a surplus of joyous memories to flood his mind, causing a genuine smile to spring to his lips, and a jubilant mirth to fill his silver eyes.  
  


“I’m sure everyone has their reasoning for being here,” he amended preemptively. “But not all of my competitors share the same endless _devotion_ to him that I know I have. My feelings run deep, for certain, and I can’t say the same for the rest of the Selected. Perhaps only a few are truly in love, but how is one to tell for sure?”  
  


He was lying through his teeth, although his end statement proved to be mostly factual. He doubted a great many of his competitors were truly in love with Katsuki by now, but it wasn’t like he was any one to judge. He held no romantic feelings towards the aggressive blonde. In fact, he quite the detested Katsuki, and his foul mouth and vulgar behavior.  
  


Yamada nodded, accepting his response nonetheless. Although, the narrowing of the loud blonde’s eyes didn’t make it over Neito’s head.  
  


_Was he that obvious?_

* * *

Tetsutetsu shifted nervously in his seat as he listened to Neito’s interview. Anticipation bubbled up in his chest painfully. He’d never had much of a filter, and figured that habit _really_ wouldn’t help him right now. Tamaki having a mental break down really did nothing to help calm his nerves. Fortunately, it seemed everyone’s nerves were shot from the unexpected incident. When Mirio had mentioned he became a therapist in order to help a friend of his, Tamaki hadn’t exactly been what Tetsutetsu was expecting, although he supposed it made sense now. The boy had unintentionally made it known that he suffered from a severe case of crippling anxiety.  
  


The raven-haired boy, as well as Mirio himself, had yet to return, and Tetsutetsu doubted they would. He mindlessly listened as Neito droned on about his little sister catching a devastating, and nearly fatal illness but persevering through and surviving anyways. Tears had sprung up in the usually calm blonde’s eyes, and while Tetsutetsu didn’t doubt the factuality of the story, he figured it was probably exaggerated a bit to earn him more pity points. While Tetsutetsu hated thinking so lowly of his friend, he knew Neito wasn’t beyond stooping to those levels if it meant earning public favor.  
  


It wasn’t too long until _he_ was being asked to join Yamada’s side, and he felt suddenly underprepared. Tetsutetsu hadn’t expected this experience to be so nerve-racking, but he supposed he should’ve. It’s not every day a Six is interviewed on live TV about his personal life as well as relationship with a _Prince_.  
  


“Welcome, little listener!” Yamada said, smiling his signature smile as always. Tetsutetsu easily returned the gesture, although he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking slightly due to nerves. “What’s your name?”  
  


Figuring saying his whole name would just be _embarrassing_ , he decided to only reveal his first—or last, depending on how you looked at it. “Tetsutetsu,” he said. “It’s so awesome to be here!”  
  


“I’m glad you think so! Can you tell us a little about yourself, Tetsutetsu?” Yamada asked.  
  


“Well, I was a Six before coming here, for one,” he admitted. “The fact that I’m a _Three_ now is still just . . . wow. It still hasn’t really registered to me, y’know?”  
  


Yamada nodded. “I understand what you mean. It’s certainly a big jump! It’d come as a shock to anyone, for sure.” He agreed.  
  


“Yeah,” Tetsutetsu said simply. “If I don’t win, I’ll probably use all the extra cash to support my family. I’ve got a load of brothers, so none of us can really marry up.”  
  


“That’s admirable,” Yamada commended, making Tetsutetsu grinned. “Not everyone would stick around after a chance like that. It’s sweet that you thought of your family.”  
  


“It wouldn’t be manly at all if I just ditched them after all they’ve done for me!” He said loudly, puffing up his chest.  
  


Yamada laughed, although he spoke his agreement with him nonetheless. The loud blonde continued asking after his home life, and questions about Katsuki as well.  
  


“What are your thoughts of the Prince?” He asked, curiosity lacing his tone.  
  


Tetsutetsu was quick to respond. “He’s hella manly!”  
  


“Amen!” Eijiro shouted from the sidelines, getting a startled laugh out of Yamada.  
  


Tetsutetsu was surprised at how quickly his nerves faded away. Yamada had that surprising effect on him, and others it seemed. He was easy to talk to, and the silver-haired boy nearly forgot that he was being filmed. It felt like a regular conversation, rather than an interview, which he was immensely grateful for.  
  


In what felt like no time at all, his interview was over and it was time for Shiozaki’s. He shot the green-haired girl a thumbs up and a blinding grin, which she acknowledged with a mute nod. Tetsutetsu didn’t mind the lack of response, though. Shiozaki had always been rather apathetic, even though she’d openly said she thought of him as well as a couple others as her friends.  
  


The green-haired girl was rather composed while talking to Yamada, right from the start, in fact, unlike Tetsutetsu. She introduced herself as Ibara Shiozaki, in her usual flat tone and talked briefly about her family. Tetsutetsu, as well as Neito and Kendo, were well aware of her religious background, but he understood why she might not want to go blabbing about that fact on live television. Even the most dispirited of the Selected wanted to rank highly in terms of public favor, Shiozaki included.  
  


“How would you feel if the Prince proposed to you?” Yamada asked, leaning forwards slightly in anticipation of her response.  
  


“Glad,” was all she responded with, in true Shiozaki fashion.  
  


Tetsutetsu stifled a chuckle, although Neito didn’t bother holding back his indignant snort at the short response.  
  


Yamada paused, seemingly not expecting that answer. “. . . Anything else?” He questioned.  
  


She shook her head.

* * *

“Introduce yourself, little listener!” Yamada enthusiastically requested.  
  


Tenya used his index finger to right his glasses, before beginning with a lengthy introduction.  
  


“My name is Tenya Iida, the respectable youngest son of renowned business associates, Tenchi and Tenru Iida!” He said, swinging his hands in a wild chopping motion as he spoke stiffly, causing Yamada to choke on his withheld laughter. “My elder brother, Tensei, is set to take over the family business, unless something were to occur to make him unfit to inherit.”  
  


“So much energy . . .” Yamada muttered incomprehensibly, before plastering on a warm smile. “Nice to meetcha, Tenya! I’d ask you to tell us a bit about yourself, but it looks like you were a step ahead of me there!”  
  


“My mother tells me to remain prepared and properly vigilant at all times!” He shouts, looking directly at the camera as he spoke.  
  


Yamada let a nervous chuckle slip out. Tenya seemed surprisingly tense, although he figured it was probably just nerves getting to him. Yamada remembered how stiff he’d been when he’d first started at this job. Gradually, over time, it became more natural for him, and nowadays he was beloved by citizens all across the nation. It was incredibly heartwarming, to say the least, but he couldn’t imagine himself leading any other life. This was a dream come true, to him. He wouldn’t trade where he’s at right now for the world.  
  


But not everyone could naturally understand the comfortability of being on _live television_ like he had, so it was only natural for most of the Selected to be nervous. Some of them took to it like a fish to water, while some clearly weren’t suited to be in the spotlight.  
  


Tenya clearly stated he was the youngest in the family, and while he came from a respectable line of pure-bred Two’s, he might not be in the limelight as often as Tensei was, considering his standing in the family. Presumably, Tensei Iida was a more commonly known name than Tenya, although that would change after the Selection was over. If he weren’t to win, then he’d surely be married not long after returning home. Yamada was nearly certain of it—that was always the case, after all. He even had the sneaking suspicion that many of the Selected may end up marrying _each other_ , which wasn’t entirely unheard of, but still uncommon enough for the most part.  
  


Soon, Tenya would have to adapt to having a lot of attention on him. His wedding would probably be a fairly publicly known event, and his name would continue to be brought up for years to come. The Selected who didn’t win always lived that fate, although there were the odd few who seemed to drop off the radar entirely after their losses. Yamada sincerely doubted Tenya would be that type of guy, although he could pick out a few who might.  
  


Tsuyu Asui had already seemingly disappeared, and the media hadn’t been able to spot her since her dismissal from the palace. Yamada wasn’t entirely surprised—he knew enough about the girl to tell that she didn’t exactly seem like the type to ordinarily enjoy a lot of attention. Her purpose for joining the Selection must’ve been purely for Katsuki.  
  


Yamada wasn’t entirely sure if that was Tenya’s entire motivation, though. He’d been at this a _long_ time, and there were a few things he’d learned along the way. Surprisingly enough—to him, at least—Two’s are usually the candidates with hidden agendas. Some were there purely out of respect and admiration for whoever’s hand they were competing for, but a lot of Two’s grew up with an overwhelming surplus of wealth and power. It was only natural for a lot of them to want _more_ , when they were already used to having so _much_.  
  


But, sometimes, the best way to figure shit out was to _ask_.  
  


“What was your motivation for coming here, Tenya?” Yamada asked, smoothly sliding the question into the former conversation they’d been having.  
  


Yamada had managed to whittle down Tenya’s nerves for the most part, although it would seem he always remained a little stiff. The odd hand gestures he constantly made while speaking were also a little off-putting, but if there’s one thing Yamada had to learn in this profession, it was how to _adapt.  
  
_

Tenya frowned, although the expression was gone as soon as it came. “If I’m being completely honest with you, I originally came because my parents compelled me to do so, since I was of age to enter,” he admitted, his shoulders sagging ever so slightly in shame. “But, I’ve grown fond of the Prince during my short stay here. I assure you I want the honor of marrying him as much as anyone else here!”  
  


Yamada smiled. “So much enthusiasm! I’m glad to hear it, listener!”

* * *

Attention wasn’t one of Fumikage’s strong suits. He much preferred to revel in the dark, far from the hungry, public eye. As a natural-born Five, it wasn’t usually hard to keep up with that desire, but he’d made a slight miscalculation in signing up for the Selected. While he certainly wanted to marry Katsuki—he would never be so dishonest as to sign up for some unwarranted ulterior motive, after all—he constantly wondered whether or not the blonde was worth this insurmountable surplus of attention.  
  


He had enjoyed his time on his group date with Katsuki, undeniably so. But if he _were_ to marry him, he’d never stray far from the public eye. How much of that would he be able to handle, before he cracked?  
  


He didn’t know all that much about the royal family, but he knew, and saw, enough to realize they weren’t exactly the picture perfect family everyone made them out to be. Surprisingly, Katsuki wasn’t too different in person from how he was on screen. The main difference was the fact that he cursed considerably less often on the Report than in everyday life.  
  


But the Queen certainly differed immensely. On screen, she was polite, and cunning, but in person, she was even more malicious than her son. Sometimes, Fumikage wondered if there was something _more_ happening behind the scenes, but felt it wasn’t entirely his place to ask after the query. He had done his best to gather as much information as he could, but it remained a difficult task when his opportunities to see the family interact were immensely hard to come by.  
  


He glanced furtively at the loud blonde seated beside of him as they talked. Well, mainly Yamada was doing all the talking, and Fumikage was trying to give as uninteresting responses as he could. He had no regard for his public image. So what, if they decided they didn’t see him fit to marry Katsuki? It wasn’t their choice, anyways.  
  


“A family of six, huh? I can’t even imagine!” Yamada said, that blinding smile still stuck stubbornly on his exuberant features.  
  


No matter how bland of a response Fumikage gave, Yamada had been able to twist it into something _exciting_. He wasn’t entirely sure how he managed to do that, but Fumikage figured it must’ve come naturally to him by now after so many years of experience.  
  


“A mad banquet of darkness, indeed,” Fumikage replied ominously.  
  


Okay, so _maybe_ he said that phrase a _few_ times too often, but he never tired of it. It was his go-to whenever he wasn’t entirely sure how to respond, which happened unsurprisingly often, considering his normally anti-social nature. Talking to people definitely was _not_ his thing, but usually if he creeped people out enough, they’d leave him alone. Yamada was certainly the exception, although that was to be expected.  
  


“What’s it like with so many kids around? Do you like your siblings? Are you the oldest?” Yamada fired question after question at him, clearly expecting a lengthier response than usual.  
  


“I’m the middle child. My siblings are annoying,” he muttered. Although he’d never admit it aloud, he secretly adored his brothers and sisters. “They make fun of my sculptures.”  
  


“Sculpting, eh? Is that what you do for a living?” Yamada asks.  
  


Fumikage nodded.  
  


“Well!” He exclaimed, causing Fumikage to meet his smile with a blank stare. “Tell us more about your sculptures!”  
  


Fumikage could tell he was grasping desperately for a conversation topic that would _stick_ , but he was nothing if not difficult to hold conversation with. Fumikage didn’t mind being alone, anyways. That’s the way he preferred things, regardless.  
  


“Most people don’t understand their raw beauty,” he murmured. Yamada leaned forwards with a quizzical look. “They’re considered ‘ _creepy_ ’,” was all he supplied further.  
  


They discussed everything and nothing, until Fumikage was certain he’d been there far too long. Yamada seemed to notice too, as he gave the raven-haired boy a sheepish smile before changing the topic.  
  


“It seems we’re nearly out of time! How’d it get away from us so quickly?” Fumikage didn’t reply. “Well, before you go, tell us a bit about your group date with the Prince!”  
  


“It wasn’t anything special,” Fumikage said quietly. “We were at a petting zoo. I mostly spent my time with the birds.”  
  


He had shared a small moment with Katsuki, but it wasn’t anything to brag about. Certainly not when he’d heard that Eijiro had already kissed him _twice_ , or that Ochaco had spent one evening with him— _alone_ —and they’d danced together in the rain. Fumikage had merely sat a lone bird on his shoulder and encouraged him to mingle with the others, something he hadn’t even been capable of doing.  
  


Fumikage wondered if he needed to be putting in more effort into the Selection. A lot of candidates were putting their all into this ‘ _competition_ ’, of sorts, and his meager attempts seemed almost pitiful in comparison. He’d always gotten by in the past by doing tasks with minimal effort, but maybe that wasn’t going to get him far enough in the Selection.  
  


If he truly wanted to win, maybe it was time to rethink his game.

* * *

Kyoka had always been a master at working under pressure. Despite how nervous she’d get while performing, the nerves only seemed to _enhance_ her abilities, which was a natural gift not many had the honor of having. While talking with Yamada, she was visibly calm, and collected, while on the inside she was _freaking. Out.  
  
_

It was only natural, of course. But she didn’t let the nerves get to her head. They _never_ did, and today would be no different.  
  


“Welcome, little listener!” Yamada greeted.  
  


Internally, Kyoka shrieked in joy. She’d always been a huge fan of Yamada’s. While she enjoyed music, she wasn’t entirely sure that’s the exact direction she wanted her life to go in. Yamada’s profession seemed _incredible_. She admired the blonde, despite their wildly differing personalities. What she wouldn’t give to be in his position. While being Queen would be infinitely more satisfying, becoming the new host of the Report had been a long-time dream of hers.  
  


“Hey, there, Hizashi,” she said in a surprisingly even tone. “My name’s Kyoka Jiro, it’s a pleasure.”  
  


Yamada grinned from ear to ear. “The pleasure’s all mine, Kyoka! Tell us a bit about yourself!”  
  


He was so _enthusiastic._ Kyoka silently wondered if she’d ever be able to match that never-ending level of energy.  
  


“Um, well, I’m a musician,” she started.  
  


Kyoka figured it was as good a place to begin introducing herself as any. After all, music played a huge role in her life.  
  


“What instruments do you play?” Yamada asked. “Do you sing?”  
  


“I play all kinds of instruments,” she replied. Too many to name, for sure. “I can sing, but it’s not my favorite thing to do . . .”  
  


Singing in front of large crowds turned her into a nervous wreck in the span of a few, measly seconds. While she did whatever it took to earn a living, she’d never go out of her way to sing on the job unless it was specifically requested.  
  


Yamada nodded along, like he understood. “I get what you mean. Gets ya real nervous, yeah?” He summed up, and Kyoka nodded solemnly. “Being the host of this show used to do the same to me—but I worked past it, I guess. Took a while to get out of my own head, but as long as you have the right people surrounding you and encouraging you, you can honestly do anything you put your mind to. It sounds cheesy, but I’ve never doubted it for a second.”

Huh.

* * *

Kyoka remained perfectly composed throughout her entire interview, a daunting task to follow up. Luckily, Camie seemed like just the person for the job.  
  


She’d always been understandably carefree and exuberant. Social interaction came naturally to her, but for seem reason—unbeknownst to her—most people found her to be annoying. Some would even go as far as calling her _unbearable_.  
  


That was one of the reasons she hung around Inasa as tenaciously as she did. While she certainly had other friends among the Selected—a prime example being Denki, who she’d been immediately drawn to like a moth to a flame—being around them wasn’t the same as it was with Inasa. He _understood_ her, something which she wasn’t really used to, to say the least.  
  


Something she quickly discovered was; Yamada had an equally as boisterous personality as she. The two loud blondes quickly got along, seemingly as easily as her and Denki had. What was with her and easily befriending loud, and annoying blondes?  
  


It seemed the similar people had a taste for them, as well. It was no secret to her that Aizawa and Yamada were married, although only a few other Selected had figured it out by now. And by the way Hitoshi looked at Denki, she figured the violet-haired boy felt at least _something_ for her friend, which she decidedly kept quiet about. It wasn’t exactly her place to tell.  
  


Looking at Aizawa and Yamada, and then successively at Denki and Hitoshi, it was easy to see the resemblance. She had no doubt in her mind that if those two didn’t win the Selection, they’d end up with each other.  
  


She could say the same for a multitude of the other Selected, as well. A lot of the bonds she’d observed forming seemed to delve a bit deeper than just friendship, despite the fact they were all at the palace meant to woo _Katsuki_ , rather than each other.  
  


All the guys were gay, for sure, and some of the girls were, too. Camie could confirm that, considering her personal—and very open—status as bisexual. Anyone who felt the need to berate her for this fact could shove their damn insults up their ass for all she cared. For crying out loud, Katsuki was now out to the entire damn country, and anyone who wanted to make fun of her for liking boobs would indirectly be making fun of the crowned Prince, a new tactic she could use to her advantage.  
  


Her thoughts slowly got away from her, and she was immensely grateful for the fact that she didn’t have the unfortunate habit of muttering like Izuku did. If she was overheard muttering about this embarrassing topic of all things on _live television_ , she wasn’t sure even _she_ could stifle the embarrassment.  
  


“Hey, could ya repeat that?” She asked.  
  


“I was asking about both of your dates with the Prince—what were they like?” He repeated, and Camie’s eyes widened minutely before a devilish grin overtook her features.  
  


Her mental blabbering halted immediately as she remembered the mental image of Katsuki in a bubblegum pink dress. It was miracle her and Akira had managed to get the blonde in the damn thing, considering he fought tooth and nail against it. Camie really wished the others could’ve seen, but she figured if she so much as _suggested_ it, he wouldn’t hesitate in snapping her neck. The thought that he wouldn’t _actually_ kill her was a slight consolation but . . . I mean, would he, though?  
  


“Oh my god, fam, it was the best! The whole cooking thingy was fun and all, and I really enjoyed cooking with my bro Denks, even though we’re both shit at it, but the one-on-one date with Prince Bakubabe was the _shit_ , I kid you not.”  
  


She was definitely rambling, but the day she saw Katsuki in a pink, flowy dress was undeniably the best of her _life_.  
  


Camie didn’t regret her vulgar language, and Yamada didn’t comment, luckily. “Oh? What exactly is it you two did?”  
  


“Well, me and his badass maid—Akira—got to choose what we were doing, which was totally a mistake on his part, but I’m so glad about it. Me and ‘kira decided that I’d try stuff on from his closet, and he’d do the same with mine.” She retold excitedly. “So, after I told my maids the plan, they filled my closet with the _pinkest, frilliest_ dresses they could. Seeing good ol’ Blasty in a dress was the highlight of my _life_.”  
  


Yamada was cackling by the end of her retelling. Camie could practically _feel_ Katsuki seething behind her back, but she ignored him in favor of joining in on Yamada’s boisterous laughter.  
  


Yamada wiped a stray tear from his green eyes. “That sounds like such a blast, my god,” he said, still chuckling slightly even after the laughter had mostly died down. “I wish you’d gotten a picture. The amount of money I would _pay_ to see that—”  
  


“SHUT UP!” Katsuki roared from off to the side, causing Camie and Yamada to burst out into another fit of laughter.

* * *

“Good luck, fam,” Camie said, a brilliant smile on her face as she took her seat by Inasa’s side. “Don’t worry too much, he’s chill.”  
  


Inasa grinned at the condolences, although he was still worried. Tamaki’s sudden anxiety attack had thrown him off his game immensely, and waited impatiently at the forefront of his mind. All other interviews had gone by in a blur, as the image of the raven-haired boy dropping to the ground in a panic, shallow-breathing, nearly unresponsive—  
  


_No.  
  
_

He shouldn’t be thinking of that right now. It wasn’t the time. He already knew he was going to go and check up on Tamaki as soon as the Report was done filming, but for now, he needed to prioritize his interview. While, in the moment, Tamaki had looked _horrible_ , he’d calmed down considerably after Mirio had come to help. Surely, by now, he was doing much better. That was what Inasa told himself constantly in his head as he took a seat besides Yamada, trying to console himself that Tamaki was alright. No one—except Mirio and Nejire—had managed to get very close to Tamaki, but the usually timid boy had a kind heart nonetheless, and not one member of the Selected could deny the fact that they were understandably protective of him. Inasa was no exception.  
  


Yamada grinned at him blindingly, and Inasa forced himself to focus on the blonde’s expression, temporarily forcing Tamaki to the very back of his mind.  
  


“Hey, listener! What’s your name?” Yamada asked, in the same loud and enthusiastic voice as always.  
  


“Inasa Yaorashi, sir!” Inasa shouted, possibly a little too loudly. Oh well, too late to backtrack now.  
  


“Such enthusiasm!” Yamada commended, seemingly indifferent to the volume. “I like it! Introduce yourself, Inasa.”  
  


“I’m a former Five, and have seven siblings back home!” He shouted, smiling at the thought of his siblings.  
  


His eldest sister and brother had already married and moved out, leaving him as the oldest kid left in their house. Despite that, he never minded taking care of his siblings. He adored them, in fact.  
  


“Seven?!” Yamada said incredulously. “That sounds like quite a handful!”  
  


Inasa grinned broadly. “Usually, but I love them!” He replied, to which Yamada nodded, grinning in return. “I also come from the same village as Todoroki!”  
  


Yamada glanced at the dual-haired boy, who seemed surprised at the revelation. “Really, now?” He asked, although he kept his eyes on Shoto.  
  


Inasa shifted. “Yep! We haven’t met before the Selection, but I met his father once!” He said, in his usual enthusiastic manner, although Yamada caught the edges of bitterness seeping into his tone. Shoto’s expression nearly matched the way Inasa was speaking.  
  


Odd.  
  


“Sounds cool!” Yamada said. “Even I’ve heard of Enji Todoroki before now. Bet it was cool meeting him, huh?”  
  


Inasa’s expression soured. “Sure,” he muttered, and Yamada didn’t miss the lack of his usual boisterous tone, and quickly diverted the topic.  
  


“Well, tell us a bit about your group date with the Prince, Inasa!” Yamada said hastily, and Inasa’s expression brightened yet again.  
  


He responded eagerly, and the rest of the interview went on without a hitch. Yamada found himself constantly coming back to that one moment where they had been discussing Enji. Both Inasa and Shoto alike had seemed uncomfortable with that specific topic. Even Shoto had some off aversion to discussing him during his own interview, just a week earlier.  
  


Curious.

* * *

Most everyone flooded towards Tamaki once the Report had stopped airing, although—fortunately—they managed to keep a respectable distance away to prevent him from panicking. It seemed he was a lot better than before, although Yamada reminded himself not to force Tamaki into doing an interview without getting his explicit permission beforehand.  
  


While everyone fretted over the raven-haired boy, who meekly attempted to reassure them he was fine, one girl strayed from the crowd, instead approaching Yamada. The blonde gave Kyoka a quizzical look as she walked towards him, sheepishly twirling a strand of violet hair around her finger as she did so.  
  


“Kyoka?” He questioned. “Is there anything I can do for you?”  
  


She hesitated, chewing her lip nervously. “I was just wondering . . .” Yamada waited patiently for her to finish. “Well, it’s just . . . what does it take to be the host of the Report?”  
  


Yamada hadn’t quite been expecting that, but he didn’t let his surprise show. Instead, he went to calmly answer the question presented.  
  


“Well, there are a lot of things you have to do in order to get where I’m at. The man who had the job before me saw my potential, and he offered to start training me, in a way, to take on the job when it was time for him to retire. I wasn’t this good when I first started out—not at _all_. But, as time went on, the key thing for me was _experience_. No one could just come out here and do what I do perfectly without years of experience at their disposal.” He paused. “Why do you ask, little listener?”  
  


The lock of hair twirled more vigorously. “Well . . .” She paused. “In case I don’t win I was, um, hoping that maybe you could . . . teach me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, everything about Tamaki's backstory is entirely made up. Ratan isn't a real character, and I'm p r e t t y s u r e Tamaki wasn't actually bullied, or it hasn't been confirmed he was (i don't actually know for sure my memory sucks ass though-)
> 
> Tenya's parents' names are also made up. I decided to just stick to the theme of names beginning with "ten".
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and next will probably be one or two dates, with the addition of the publishing of the list, ranking them based on public opinion. I'll be returning to my regular schedule of Tuesday's and Friday's, so that's good (for you guys at least-)
> 
> Here's the usual list of the Selected, plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> Like I mentioned before, I'm back to the regular schedule, so I'll have the next chapter out on Tuesday!


	21. Girls Night Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda wanted something lighthearted, and while dates are great and all, this was easier for me to write tbh (and more fun :P)
> 
> Also, I may have promised the list ranking the Selected would be out, but that won't be for another two chapters. This and the chapter after this one represent the weekend, and the list will be out on what is Monday in the fic.
> 
> Enjoy <3

Becoming a member of the palace guards was nearly impossible, to put it frankly. Only a select number of men in prime fighting condition were set up to the task, and even after you were chosen, it was a feat to continue service until retirement.

  
While the palace guards led dangerous lives—all soldiers did, after all—their work was understandably admirable. They fought to protect the lives of the royal family, and everyone else residing in the palace. If Shizuoka were to ever partake in war, they’d be on the front lines, defending all of Shizuoka and its citizens.

  
And that was exactly why Izuku wanted to be a member of the palace guard.

  
His chances were slim as he was now. He had no formal training, and while he’d managed to build up a fair bit of muscle over the years, he had no profound method of utilizing that strength in combat.

Besides, there was no guarantee he’d ever even be given the _chance_. He didn’t want to continue the Selection thinking that he was going to _win_ , but Izuku couldn’t deny that it could be a possibility. If that were the case, and he _were_ to become King, there would be so much _more_ he’d be able to do for Shizuoka’s citizens. It wouldn’t be off-putting at all, far from it, in fact.  
  


But even if he lost, Izuku had no say in whether or not he’d be given the chance. The palace guards were almost entirely decided based on men who were specifically _drafted_.  
  


It was uncommon, to say the least, for someone to actually _want_ to get drafted, but Izuku was among the rare few. There was that rare moment, every now and then, when the King or Queen would recommend someone for the position—and they most always received an offer afterwards. But, of course, you had to have _connections_ in order for that to happen. So, when would be a better time than _right now_? He was in the palace, and he spent most days talking with either the Queen or the Prince—mainly the Queen, though. Katsuki was often busy with his duties as the crowned Prince or on a date with one of the Selected.  
  


If he was going to make an impression, now was his chance. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to waste it.

* * *

“Hey, Mina!”  
  


The girl in question snapped her head back at the sound of someone calling her name. She was met with brown eyes and abnormally pink tinted cheeks—Ochaco. Mina smiled and approached the brunette, gazing at her quizzically.  
  


She titled her head to the side slightly. “Hey, Ocha, what’s up?”  
  


Ochaco’s face lit up in a brilliant smile. Mina had grown used to blinding smiles such as that, especially after growing up around Eijiro, and also meeting Denki and Hanta. She was told in the past her own smile seemed to radiate the sun as well.  
  


“Well,” Ochaco began, distracting Mina’s eyes away from her grin. “The Prince already said he was going to pretty much be taking the weekend to himself, and there’s not really much for all of us Selected to do.”  
  


Mina grinned, understanding what kind of direction this was going in. “So? What did ya have in mind?”  
  


“A sleepover!” She finished breathlessly, brown eyes shimmering with excitement.  
  


Mina’s eyes lit up. “Hell yeah! That sounds like a really fun idea.” She agreed.  
  


First, they’d need to talk to the other Selected about it, but she had no doubt most of them would agree pretty easily. Maybe they could even invite the representatives from Akuyaku, as well as Keigo to build bonds with them.  
  


“I kinda wanted to run the idea by someone else before trying to convince a large group.” Ochaco admitted sheepishly.  
  


Mina shrugged. “Well, let’s go ask them, then. No use waiting around, right?”  
  


There was that blinding smile again. “Right!”

* * *

Izuku fidgeted nervously.  
  


He had spent a lot of time thinking this through, but even then he was still a little hesitant to request this of Katsuki. He didn’t necessarily want it to seem like a plot to earn him extra time with the blonde—although of course the fact that he might be able to if Katsuki says yes was always a plus.  
  


That didn’t stop the nerves from settling deep into his skin, causing him to twitch like crazy. He could only pray he wouldn’t stutter while making this request.  
  


He wasn’t so fortunate.  
  


“P-P-Prince B-Bakugou?”  
  


Mentally, Izuku cursed himself for stuttering. Outwardly, he was shaking like a leaf, and was probably paler than a ghost. It was a _simple_ question, so Izuku didn’t really understand why he was so _nervous_. He didn’t truly believe Katsuki would be upset with him for asking, but he was still anxious to do so.  
  


Nonetheless, Katsuki turned towards him with a questioning gaze. “Yeah?”  
  


Izuku took a deep breath, trying fruitlessly to settle his quaking nerves. “I-I-I’d like t-to ask you s-s-something . . .”  
  


Katsuki shrugged. “Okay. What is it?”  
  


Nervously, Izuku scratched the back of his neck, curling in on himself to make himself as small as a target as possible.  
  


_Come on, Izuku, get a hold of yourself . . .  
  
_

“C-could you, m-maybe . . . t-t-teach me how to f-fight?”

* * *

“A sleepover?”  
  


Mina was surprised to hear Tamaki speak up, blinking blearily at her and Ochaco. It seemed he had grown comfortable enough with most of the Selected that he felt as though he could speak aloud in front of the whole group—something he definitely wasn’t known for doing often.  
  


“Yeah!” She responded cheerily, although she toned down her usual volume slightly. The last thing Mina wanted to do was frighten Tamaki after he’d been making considerable progress. “We don’t actually have permission just yet, but I wanted to run the idea by everyone before asking Aizawa. Anyone who doesn’t feel like participating doesn’t have to, but for those of you who do want to, it’ll be loads of fun!”  
  


“Hey, hey, I have an idea, too!” Nejire called out animatedly.  
  


Ochaco gave her a quizzical look. “Yeah? What is it, Nejire?”  
  


“What if we split up for the day, and had a girls and guys night out! The boys can do their own thing, and the girls can do theirs, and we meet back here for a sleepover later!” She suggested.  
  


“Totally!” Camie exclaimed in agreement.  
  


Everyone murmured their agreement, and it was ultimately decided that they _would_ have a girls and guys night out. The girls congregated, and discussed what they wanted to do first before heading out to watch a movie.  
  


Dimly, Shoto scanned the parlor, which was void of all the girls who’d been there before. He didn’t really mind their absence, but he noticed one presence missing.  
  


Where was Izuku?

* * *

Katsuki had been expecting a mildly uneventful weekend. The _last_ thing he had suspected was that one of the Selected would request he _train_ them, although he was slightly less surprised the question had come from Izuku. He’d mentioned his interest in hand-to-hand combat when they’d first spoke. The blonde figured Izuku was making an earnest request, so he accepted.  
  


No matter whether or not he had accepted or declined, Katsuki still had an ever-looming pile of paperwork lying apprehendingly in his room, which he was promptly avoiding. He had ultimately decided to take a weekend to himself to work on it, and hopefully relax a bit as well, but with how horribly he was currently procrastinating, it’d be a miracle if it were truly finished by Monday.  
  


Currently, he was pointedly avoiding paperwork by wandering the garden, accompanied by none other than Himiko Toga. While Katsuki had never been a fan of the girl’s presence, if he wanted to gather information from someone, she would be best suited to do so.  
  


The blonde girl admired the garden in awe, pausing every other step to admire some flower or insect, or something else of the sort. Katsuki didn’t mind all that much—he’d found himself being able to enjoy the soothing presence of the palace gardens the more often he visited. He noticed he did so a lot more often after the Selected had arrived.  
  


“This one’s so pretty!” Toga exclaimed, squatting down to admire a crimson red flower that Katsuki didn’t know the name of. The blonde muttered something else under her breath, but Katsuki was too far away to catch it.  
  


“What’d you say?” He questioned gruffly.  
  


Toga smirked mischievously at him. “Nothing,” she replied in a lilting tone. “Thought you were taking the weekend off or whatever. Why’d ya wanna hang out with _me_?”  
  


Katsuki grit his teeth. “I like your company, why else?”  
  


She narrowed her eyes, but didn’t question him further.

* * *

“God, that movie was so _sad_!”  
  


Camie wasn’t ashamed to admit the fact that she was unabashedly sobbing into an apathetic Kyoka’s shoulder, especially since half the other girls in the room were doing the exact same. Kyoka seemed utterly unphased by the devastating end to the movie, and instead awkwardly patted Camie’s back in an attempt to comfort her.  
  


“I thought we chose a _rom-com_ ,” Camie desperately sobbed. “How are you not upset?”  
  


Kyoka shrugged. “They’re just actors. It’s not real.”  
  


“But it _felt real_ ,” Mina cried out. She and Ochaco were clinging to each other like touch-starved koalas, no doubt soaking each other’s day dresses.  
  


Nejire, who was choking back tears of her own, spoke up. “Hey, hey, girls, let’s do something lighthearted next, yeah?”  
  


Ochaco wiped the tears out of her chocolate colored eyes. “What do you suggest, Nejire?”  
  


The girl in question’s eyes brightened considerably, losing the teary sheen from a moment ago. “I heard from one of my maid’s that there’s a spa in the palace! I’ve only been once before to a spa, but it’s so much fun!”  
  


“Yeah!” Momo cheered in agreement. “That sounds like a wonderful idea, Hado! Do you know where it’s at?”  
  


“Yeah, yeah, totally,” she replied instantly.  
  


As it would turn out, that statement was a complete and utter _lie_.  
  


They were hopelessly lost in the confusingly twisty tunnels of the palace, and even after asking directions _multiple_ times, they somehow got only _more_ confused.  
  


“Wait, wait, fam I think we gotta go around this corner,” Camie called out.  
  


“We just came from there, though,” Shiozaki pointed out tonelessly, spreading confusion amongst the group.  
  


“Wait, did we?” Mina questioned aloud. She pointed towards another turn in the confusing corridors. “I thought we turned there.”  
  


Kyoka sighed. They were utterly lost, and it seems like the cacophony of voices calling out seemingly incorrect directions was only adding to the further confusion. She certainly didn’t know her way around the palace, none of them had quite figured this place out just yet, but if only they could find someone to guide them . . .  
  


“Guys, seriously shut the fuck up for _one second_ ,” Kyoka said in a monotone voice, an equally bored expression written over her features. “Let’s find someone to give us directions. Duh.”  
  


Nejire pouted. “We tried that, Jiro, and we just kept getting lost _anyways_.”  
  


“Maybe we should just have them stay with us, then.” Shiozaki suggested.  
  


Everyone paused, as if that thought had only just _now_ occurred to them—although Kyoka wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.  
  


“So, uh,” Ochaco spoke up hesitantly. “Where is everyone?”

* * *

Exploring the vast palace corridors with Dabi was by far Keigo’s favorite pastime. He couldn’t exactly describe why he liked the ominous man’s company so much, but whenever they were apart he felt himself being drawn back to his side. While he did have certain duties of his own, whenever he found himself with any free time, he’d spend it with Dabi.  
  


Oftentimes, they’d go to the garden, since Dabi seemed to like it there best, but every now and then—like today—they’d explore the castle in hopes of being able to navigate it better. They’d discovered all sorts of cool rooms, and Keigo found himself even being able to make his way about the place easier and easier the more they ventured.  
  


Sometimes, they’d go so far in the palace to places where maids and guards hardly ever came by. It was a little spooky, but Keigo didn’t mind too much. His palace back home had similar areas as well, and he enjoyed going there often whenever he needed peace and quiet.  
  


Oddly enough, he could swear he heard _voices_ , though.  
  


“Where is everyone?” A feminine voice asked hesitantly.  
  


Keigo looked to Dabi in mild confusion, but the man in question just shrugged. “Wanna go check it out?”  
  


He grinned. “Yeah,” he agreed, and they made their way towards the odd voices rather than away.  
  


“There’s gotta be someone around here somewhere,” another voice said nervously. “Let’s keep walking, and hopefully we run into someone.”  
  


A chorus of voices called out their agreement, before a clutter of footsteps could be heard, growing louder with each footfall. They must’ve been getting closer to where Keigo and Dabi were.  
  


Keigo decidedly turned the corner, nearly running face first into one Mina Ashido, who looked equally as shocked as he. “Need some help, ladies?”

* * *

“I know we’re totally here for Prince Bakugou and all, but that Fukuokan Prince is still super hot,” Camie pointed out, and the other girls murmured their agreement.  
  


Surprisingly enough, Keigo—who had only been around for less than a week—had managed to guide them through the palace and straight to the spa. Afterwards, he and Dabi set off again, apparently heading towards the gardens to spend some quiet time together.  
  


“Yeah, but him and that Dabi guy? I _totally_ ship it,” Mina said excitedly.  
  


Keigo spent more time with Dabi than anyone else in the palace, and the same was true in reverse. While she had no confirmation that either man might even like men to begin with, she highly suspected based on the teasing flirting that took part between the two, as well as the cherry red blush that crept onto Keigo’s face whenever Dabi got too close. Mina could absolutely see the two getting together.  
  


“I know whatcha mean.” Kyoka agreed, opening the doors for the others as they shuffled inside, two at a time. “They’re always together.”  
  


“Exactly!” Mina exclaimed, glad someone else understood what she meant. “Oh, hey, what are we supposed to do at a spa anyways?”  
  


Momo gaped at her slightly. “You’ve never been before?”  
  


“Um, no?” Mina said, although she phrased it more like a question. “Former Five, remember?”  
  


A blush made its way onto Momo’s naturally pale features. “Right, my bad.”  
  


Mina merely laughed it off. “Its chill, Yaomomo. Mind showing me your preferences, then?”  
  


Momo’s eyes lit up. “Oh, sure!”  
  


The girls from lower castes crowded around Camie and Momo, listening to them talk about what all you do at a spa, and what they personally preferred. While most of them were getting some form of massage, they discussed what other stops they’d make throughout the day.  
  


“Hey, so, what are we even supposed to _do_ during a girl’s night out?” Ochaco asked with a sleepy lilt to her tone. The back massage was almost _too_ relaxing, and she found herself on the verge of sleep almost immediately. “Should we, like, get ice cream or something?”  
  


“Yeah! Oh, oh, and makeovers!” Nejire called out, receiving a chorus of cheery, albeit slightly tired sounding, agreements from the others.  
  


“Ice cream next, then makeovers,” Kyoka decided. “And have a maid or something guide us around. I _really_ don’t feel like wasting another hour of my life getting lost.”  
  


Momo blushed, although no one could actually see it. “Yeah, that _was_ rather embarrassing . . . especially having to be led by two people who have been here much less time than us.”  
  


“Yeah, but we totally made it here all the same, right? Who cares if we get a little lost?” Camie piped up, and even her usually chipper voice was laced with drowsiness. “It’s just an adventure.”  
  


“I was expecting some time with my fellow ladies, that’s all,” Ochaco replied. “I don’t really care _where_ we spend that time.”  
  


“Ice cream sounds more enjoyable than creepily empty hallways, though,” Shiozaki pointed out monotonously. The others murmured their agreement.  
  


“I wonder what the boys are up to,” Mina mused.

* * *

“CANNONBALL!”  
  


Hanta dove out of the way of a sprinting Denki, who made a decently big splash right where Hanta had just been doggy-paddling. “Watch where you’re going, dipshit.”  
  


Denki smiled, although he didn’t look all that ashamed. “Whoops, my bad, Hanta,” he apologized.  
  


“I bet I can make a bigger splash!” Eijiro called over from where he was standing, a decent distance from the edge of the pool, looking ready to run at it at any moment.  
  


Denki merely scoffed, swimming away from where Eijiro was clearly headed. “You wish!”  
  


The redhead took off, jumping high into the air when he reached the edge. He came down and landed in the water, and a loud _smack!_ followed when he made contact. No doubt that had to have hurt. Despite how far away him and Denki were, they were both engulfed in pool water as a tremendous splash rolled over them, causing Denki to pout and Hanta to crack up with laughter.  
  


Eijiro poked his head up from the water, grinning widely, much to Denki’s chagrin. “Well now your splash looks _tiny_ ,” Hanta piped up, still cackling. “Just like you.”  
  


“Hey!” Denki whined. “I’m not tiny! Just fun-sized.”  
  


“Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that, Denks,” Hitoshi said, popping up from god knows where, and effectively scaring the shit out of Hanta.  
  


He would deny ever being the cause of the unearthly squeal that traitorously escaped his lips. “Warn a guy next time!”  
  


Hitoshi shrugged. “You would’ve been scared either way.”  
  


Hanta huffed indignantly, although he had to admit that Hitoshi made a fair point. “What are we doing after this?”  
  


Eijiro shrugged. “Not sure. Ask Toogata, pretty sure he’s calling the shots. He’s got the best ideas, anyways.”  
  


Denki waded over to the fellow blonde, easily striking up a quick conversation. “Heya, Mirio! Having fun?”  
  


“Yeah! Wanna race?” He asked cheerily, and Denki readily agreed.  
  


They set themselves up at one end of the pool, and everyone cleared out a path for the two.  
  


“Ready,” Fumikage said tonelessly. “Set. Go.”  
  


The pair pushed off the wall and took off across the pool, with Mirio quickly taking a noticeable lead. He reached the other side of the pool while Denki was still only three-quarters of the way there. He flipped underwater, and pushed off against the wall, the momentum carrying him a good chunk of the way back towards the side they started at.  
  


Inevitably, Mirio won by an obvious difference, but Denki had ultimately been expecting that. The blonde boy was jacked with hard-earned muscle. Denki would honestly be surprised to find even an ounce of fat on Mirio’s body.  
  


“Good game, dude,” Denki said good-naturedly, not upset in the least over his loss. Everyone went back to mildly mingling with one another, while Denki brought up the topic he’d originally meant to ask. “What are we doing after this, man?”  
  


“Showering,” he joked, although he did have a good point. Denki was definitely taking a bath after this. “But also I think we might go bowling. Sounds fun, yeah?”  
  


“Definitely.”

* * *

“Chocolate? Really? I always took ya for the vanilla kinda girl, Shiozaki,” Mina commented mildly on Shiozaki’s ice cream preferences.  
  


The girl in question shrugged, taking a small bite of her ice cream. “Both are fine to me.”  
  


“They’re both totally so basic though,” Camie interjected. “Birthday cake is bomb.”  
  


Ochaco momentarily stopped stuffing her face to leave her own comment in the discussion. “They’re all amazing,” she said dreamily. “Who knew ice cream was so _good_.”  
  
  


Kyoka gaped at her. “You’ve never had it before? Sheesh, I’m broke as hell and even I’ve eaten it twice before now.”  
  


“Strawberry is so good,” Ochaco added through a mouthful of said ice cream flavor, mostly ignoring Kyoka’s comment.  
  


“I think she’s gone into shock,” Mina joked, although she had to admit the stuff was _amazing_. Just like Ochaco, she’d never tried ice cream before, and the flavor was far from disappointing.  
  


“Your expression isn’t too far from hers, y’know,” Kyoka pointed out.  
  


“Well _excuse_ me for wanting to treasure this beautiful delicacy known as _ice cream_.” She snapped back teasingly, causing Kyoka to chuckle in response.  
  


Camie pouted slightly. “It’s hella good, but god am I gonna break out so bad after this.”  
  


The other girls chorused their reluctant agreement. “It doesn’t matter. We’re gonna make each other look like goddesses after this, yeah?” Ochaco spoke up, that being the first coherent thing she’s said that didn’t involve her newfound love of ice cream.  
  


“Hell yeah. But, mind you, I always look like a goddess.” Mina piped up.  
  


“Please, Momo is the only goddess here and no one can disagree.” Kyoka said, and the others shouted immediate agreement.  
  


Momo face broke out in a blush. “You guys are too sweet,” she muttered, slightly embarrassed yet flattered.  
  


“And you’re totally too good for this world,” Camie replied instantly. “So, who’s face am I gonna beautify?”  
  


“It’s gonna be a joint effort,” Shiozaki said. “Some people doing hair, some doing makeup, and some doing clothes. Gets more done that way.”  
  


“Fair,” Ochaco agreed, setting down her now empty bowl of ice cream. “I’m done, although I’ll admit I could probably go for seconds . . .”  
  


Mina shook her head. “I couldn’t. I already feel bloated from one bowl.”  
  


“Yeah, ice cream will do that to ya. You look fine, though, it’s all in your head.” Kyoka reassured her, although Mina didn’t look entirely convinced. “Once everyone’s done we can head up to one of our room’s. Whichever’s closest, I guess.”  
  


It didn’t take long for most of them to finish eating, until Shiozaki was the only one left. Impatiently, Nejire poked at her shoulder as she ate her near empty bowl of ice cream.  
  


“Hey, hey, y’know you kinda eat as slow as a sloth,” she pointed out, although it was clear she meant no offense.  
  


“Thanks,” Shiozaki replied dryly.

* * *

Ochaco’s room had ultimately been closest, so they holed up in there and sat the brunette down in front of her vanity. The other girls swarmed around her as Camie decided on an outfit for her to wear, waiting for at least a dress to be picked out so they knew what colors to base her makeup on.  
  


“Hey, think this’ll work?” Camie held up a long, flowing, sleeveless dress colored in warm pink and red tones.  
  


Mina smiled. “A pink theme! My favorite!” She cheered. “We’ve got this, Camie, the dress works perfectly.”  
  


She and Kyoka worked on Ochaco’s makeup, while Momo and Shiozaki discussed what to do with her hair. They figured it might be easier to decide once she was actually wearing the dress, so they stood back and watched Mina and Kyoka work their magic. A good half hour later, they were completely finished, and forced Ochaco to admire her makeover in the full-sized mirror leaning against the wall.  
  


“I love it!” She exclaimed delightedly, and the other girls cheered. “Whos’ next?”  
  


Makeovers took a lot more time than any of them had been expecting, but it was alright since they were enjoying themselves all the same. They decided Momo would go last, because she would supposedly provide ‘the best reveal’.  
  


The other girls looked absolutely stunning once their makeover was complete—well, more stunning than usual, she supposed. Shiozaki was dressed in white, giving her an angelic appeal. Mina was killing it in a sleeveless black dress, which easily accentuated her best features, almost as if it was made for her.  
  


Kyoka wore a deep shade of violet, which had Momo blushing for some unfathomable reason. The girl looked exceptionally amazing in the ensemble. Camie looked amazing in a brilliant shade of sky blue, and easily rocked the rather revealing dress the other girls had chosen for her.  
  


“Guys, I found the perfect dress!” Camie called out, stepping out of the closet and holding up a dress.  
  


Momo turned around in her chair to admire the chosen outfit for her—a long, lilac ball-gown which seemed almost _too_ grand for the occasion. “Isn’t that a bit . . . much?” She questioned.  
  


“Nope,” Mina denied, popping the ‘p’. “You’ll look even more god-like, trust us.”  
  


The pink-haired girl set off doing her eye makeup, while Kyoka worked tirelessly on contouring, which she was apparently exceptionally skilled at. Despite the fact that neither girl must’ve had access to makeup much in the past, their history of being closely involved in art most of their lives showed in their exceptional makeup artistry.  
  


Ochaco looked over to admire Kyoka and Mina’s work. “Shit, and I thought she couldn’t get any more beautiful,” she commented earnestly. “You two are magic-workers, I swear.”  
  


Mina grinned. “Trade secret, Ocha, don’t expose us.” She replied jokingly.  
  


Once Momo’s makeover was complete, she stood in front of the mirror, staring at her transformed reflection in slack-jawed awe. She’d never been ashamed of her looks before—far from it, in fact. But now, even she couldn’t tear her eyes away. She was _breathtaking_ , and usually that would be difficult to admit, but she had to say that the other girls did a _phenomenal_ job.  
  


“I can’t wait to show the guys!”

* * *

“Hey, did hear the news?” Izuku brought up to Shoto and Tenya, both of which were waiting on the sidelines for their turn. Denki was up, and he rolled the ball carelessly, although somehow he managed to still knock down a good number of pins. On his second try, he easily made a spare. “Good job, Kaminari!”  
  


The blonde sent him a quick thumbs up, before taking a seat with his usual group of friends. Izuku turned back towards his own group, waiting for a response. Shoto was giving him a quizzical look, whereas Tenya seemed contemplative.  
  


“Are you referring to that mass murderer they’ve been going on about?” He questioned, and Izuku nodded in response. “Oh, what was his name again?”  
  


“They’re calling him Stain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh... looks like Stain's arrived...
> 
> I'll probably talk about him more during a different chapter.
> 
> During the movie scene, I can kinda relate to Jiro tbh. I never cry during shows or movies, and rarely while reading books either. I've been watching Marvel movies for y e a r s, and didn't shed a single tear during end game *shrugs*
> 
> I love the girls in this fic. Honestly, all of them are queens, no denying it. Except Momo, that girl is a downright g o d d e s s.
> 
> I hope you can feel the heavily implied dabihawks because i have n o intention of hiding it. Love that ship to death
> 
> Here's the list of the Selected plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> Next chapter I'm gonna go into more detail about what the guys are doing as well as write the sleepover bit. They're gonna play t or d for sure, so if anyone could suggest some truths and dares, that'd be great. Usually when I play we just do dumb shit like sticking ice cubes in our pants, so I'm not the most creative when it comes to that game lol
> 
> I'll be posting on Friday so look forwards to that. Cya then :P


	22. Sleepover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God this chapter... I was not expecting it to end the way it did. Guess it'll be a surprise, eh?
> 
> Also, if anyone is interested, I posted a one-shot about izu telling Aizawa about ofa, so here's the link if ya wanna read ig: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24670852
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left t or d suggestions, this chapter would not be the same without tbh
> 
> I hope you enjoy the chapter! ^w^

He carefully rolled back his sleeve, skillfully arching his wrist as he rolled the bowling ball with practiced ease down the alley, easily knocking over all ten of his pins. He smirked to himself, proud of his accomplishment, despite only being in bowling, before walking back towards Tetsutetsu, who congratulated him half-heartedly.  
  


“Good job, Monoma,” he said flatly, although Neito decidedly ignored the toneless aspect of his speech for the most part, taking the praise as it was.  
  


By far, Neito was Tetsutetsu’s least favorite of their friend group. He definitely didn’t hate or dislike him, not at all, and he could tell it went both ways, too. Neito was especially competitive with most of the Selected, but he also seemed oddly overprotective of him and Shiozaki, which was a surprisingly welcome change from his usual narcotic demeanor.  
  


That didn’t stop the silver-haired boy from continuing to get jealous every now and then. Because Neito’s certainly one who is easy to get jealous of.  
  


While he seemed often manic at times, he still managed everything he did flawlessly. No doubt, he has a viable shot at winning this, and Tetsutetsu seemed to think very poorly of his own chances. Then again, perhaps Neito wasn’t what Katsuki was looking for.  
  


Based on his preferences so far—Eijiro and Izuku, since they’re the only two he’s kissed—he likes a particularly kind soul. Not exactly what Tetsutetsu had been expecting of the aggressive Prince, but also somewhat unsurprising after you got to know him. Both Izuku and Eijiro seemed like they could be a good fit as Katsuki’s husband.  
  


“Pay attention, dumbass,” Neito warned him, pointing towards the screen displaying whose turn it was. Numbly, Tetsutetsu noted that it was _his_ turn, and everyone was probably waiting on _him_. “It’s your turn.”  
  


“Yeah, yeah, I noticed,” Tetsutetsu snapped back.  
  


Neito was entirely unaffected by his tone, rather shrugging in response. “Based on that dopey look on your face, you actually didn’t.”  
  


Tetsutetsu decidedly ignored the fact that he was right.  
  


He grabbed a bowling ball based on the weight he’d been choosing on his previous turns, carefully shifting it so it fit comfortably in his hand, before stepping up to the bowling lane. He watched as the ball flew down the alley, veering towards the left before tapering off into the side, missing on the bowling pins entirely, much like his formers turns.  
  


Neito sighed, watching Tetsutetsu’s meager attempts at bowling. Eventually, he just had to take pity on him, and snuck up behind the boy with a silver ball in hand, a similar shade to his hair. “Here, try this.”  
  


He decided to ignore the fact that Tetsutetsu nearly jumped out of his skin from his sudden approach, and instead held the ball out to him, which Tetsutetsu took somewhat suspiciously. “Huh? Why?”  
  


“This weight might be easier to manage. You’re clearly struggling controlling the direction the ball rolls in, so a lighter weight might work better for you. And _don’t_ —” he cut off Tetsutetsu before he had the chance to speak up. “Don’t give me all that manly bullshit. Try it out.”  
  


Tetsutetsu reluctantly positioned himself, grumbling. “I guess it feels better.” He admitted.  
  


“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Neito gloated, taking the time to look over Tetsutetsu’s form. “God, your positioning is all off. You’ve never played before, have you? I can tell.”  
  


The silver-haired boy seemed surprised when Neito began physically repositioning his arms and legs, instructing him on what to do as he prodded at Tetsutetsu incessantly. “Sorry that we all can’t be born filthy rich like you, Monoma.”  
  


Neito shrugged. “You’ll have more opportunities to do things like this now that you’re at least a Three. Maybe I’ll spare some time to bowl with you when I become King.”  
  


Tetsutetsu couldn’t fight back the chuckle that slipped from his lips at Neito’s unadulterated show of confidence. “Wish I had your confidence, man,” he admitted.  
  


“I’ve grown up in the limelight. It comes naturally.” He seemed sufficiently pleased with Tetsutetsu’s form now, backing off slightly. “Give it a go. I’ll be waiting for you to tell me what an amazing job I’ve done afterwards.”  
  


Tetsutetsu snorted, but he had to admit that the ball felt much lighter in his hand than before, and he felt like he was able to maneuver better. As he went to roll the ball down the lane, it veered only slightly, but made contact with the bowling pins, knocking down a fair majority.  
  


He pumped his fist victoriously. “Alright! Just like a real man!” Neito cleared his throat pointedly, receiving an eye roll and a fond grin in return. “Yeah, yeah, thanks Monoma.”  
  


“It was nothing,” Neito said nonchalantly, moving back towards their table at a glacial pace as Izuku approached the former lane, ball in hand. “By the end of this I’m sure I’ll have you as a bowling pro.”  
  


Tetsutetsu chuckled nervously. “Should I be worried?”

* * *

Izuku pouted when the game was over, not missing how he came near last. The only name below his, in fact, was Hitoshi’s, who managed to miss _all_ of his bowling pins throughout the game. Izuku couldn’t really say much, though, considering he’d only done slightly better.  
  


“Good game!” Denki called out cheerily, and was met with responses of varying enthusiasm. “Let’s go get food and head back to the parlor, yeah?”  
  


The others pondered the idea. No one knew for sure how long the girls would take, although they’d had a head start. So far the guys had only gone swimming for a decent length of time, and done three rounds of bowling.  
  


Hitoshi inevitably made the decision for them. “Lead the way.”  
  


And he did so, with vigor. Fumikage wondered how someone could have so much energy as he silently trudged along at the back of the group. He unintentionally listened in as Izuku talked animatedly with Shoto about something or the other.  
  


“He said he wasn’t even from Akuyaku, remember? What if he’s from here? Where’d he get those scars from? And I totally saw red roots, he definitely dyes his hair. But why? Does he prefer the black? And when I say red, I mean like _Kirishima’s_ hair color. Or like yours, even!” Fumikage dully noted that they were probably talking about Dabi as Izuku gestured towards the left side of Shoto’s hair. “Y’know, apparently Kirishima went from black to red, and if Dabi went from red to black, then they’re kinda like opposites, y’know?”  
  


“Izuku,” Shoto interrupted bemusedly. “You’re rambling again.”  
  


“Oh!” Izuku said, face flushing from embarrassment. “I’m sorry!”  
  


“No need to apologize,” Shoto waved him off.  
  


Fumikage took the chance to approach, deciding to join in on the conversation. “You two were talking about Dabi, yes?”  
  


Izuku nodded in response. “Yeah, we were. What’s up?”  
  


“I’ve heard some things about him,” Fumikage said ominously. Izuku perked up considerably at that. “He got his burns in a house fire, supposedly.”  
  


A flicker of recognition glazed over Shoto’s eyes, but it was gone as soon as it came. “A house fire?” He asked in a detached tone.  
  


Fumikage nodded. “Yeah. Barely made it out alive, so I’ve heard.”  
  


“How do you know?” Izuku questioned.  
  


The maids liked to gossip, and since Fumikage was so quiet, they rarely ever knew he was there. He’d learned loads of odd stuff about everyone in the palace by occasionally listening in on their conversations now and then. He wasn’t entirely sure _where_ the information came from, exactly, but so far most of it had proved to be true.  
  


“The maids,” he summed up decidedly.  
  


Shoto didn’t seem all too surprised. “They gossip a lot,” he agreed, nodding. “Not sure how much of it is true, though.”  
  


“Most of it, I think,” Fumikage replied. Even some of the more farfetched rumors had often been proved true. “I also think Dabi is originally from here. From what I’ve heard . . . probably a higher caste, too. If you’re curious enough, ask Prince Takami. They’re close.”  
  


Izuku sighed. “I’m not sure why it frustrates me so much that I know nothing about him.” He admitted. “I’m not even close to him or anything.”  
  


Fumikage understood where he was coming from. He figured most of the Selected were curious about the mysterious man known as “Dabi” as well. The more you kept information away from someone, the more they yearned to know.  
  


“I’m not either, but I admit I’m curious,” Fumikage agreed. Shoto hummed his agreement on the matter, as well. “Who _is_ Dabi?”

* * *

“Anyone here?” Hanta called out loudly, opening the door to the Selected’s parlor, only to be met with silence and an unusually empty room. “They’re not back yet, guys.”  
  


Denki followed him in, immediately going to take his spot by the fireplace. The other boys groaned when they came in to find him sitting there, shit-eating grin and all, realizing they’d missed their chance _again_.  
  


Eijiro took a seat by his side, leaving space open for Hitoshi. The violet-haired boy undeniably preferred sitting by the blonde’s side most of all. “We’ll just wait,” he suggested good-naturedly. “Shouldn’t be too much longer.”  
  


Luckily, he was right, because Denki was so hyped up by the prospect of a sleepover—his _first_ sleepover, _ever_ —that he felt like he couldn’t sit around waiting any longer. His ADHD was practically going haywire, and he’d left to pee at least five times in the span of an hour, if only for an excuse to move around.  
  


He sprung up at the sound of the door opening, and rushed to greet Mina as she sauntered inside, dressed up in a shimmering black gown that was much to formal for the occasion, and caked in a shit ton of makeup that looked professionally done. “Hey, hey, hey! What’s up, guys?”  
  


Denki hugged her tightly, causing her to let out a surprised laugh, but returned his hug all the same. “These guys are so _lame_ , Mi Mi, it’s so _boring_ without you here!” He whined half-heartedly, receiving a chorus of “Hey!” in return.  
  


Mina cackled, immediately going to take a seat by Hanta’s side. “Too bad, Denks, I had loads of fun.” She stuck her tongue out teasingly, receiving an overdramatic pout in return. “Chin up, blondie, and behold our masterpieces.”  
  


The guys looked towards the door as the other girls slowly trickled inside, all just as dressed up as Mina. Hanta let out a low, appreciative whistle. “You guys look great. This how you spent your time?”  
  


“No,” Shiozaki replied. “Unlike you, we were able to get plenty done in our span of time. What did you all do? Eat?”  
  


“Hey!” Chorused a large number of guys in the room. “I’ll have you know we went swimming and bowling.”  
  


Shiozaki gave Hanta a blank look. “Sounds like a blast,” she deadpanned. Hanta cracked up laughing at the serious expression.  
  


“But also,” Denki held up a bag of chips, a shit-eating grin spread across his face. “We brought snacks.”  
  


There was a mad dash for the snack pile as the guys and girls alike tried to get some food for them as well as their friends. Luckily, the boys seemed to realize that despite the circumstances, they were all still teenagers—well, most of them at least. And as teenagers, they were _not_ shy about eating food.  
  


“You guys are lucky I love you,” Mina said dramatically, passing around a bag of doritos. “I could eat this whole bag in one sitting, easy. I’m a dancer too; I’d hardly gain a pound.”  
  


Denki scoffed. “ _Lucky._ ”  
  


Ochaco suggested the idea of a combination of spin the bottle and truth or dare—as long as any dares didn’t involve things like kissing or anything similar. Technically, under their circumstances, that was against the _law_ , game or not. But, honestly, it didn’t deter them.  
  


It started off simple—a few cheesy dares, and some simple truths. Hanta had been unfortunate enough to be dared to lick the ground—at least they kept the palace clean. Shoto had seemed entirely unphased when they’d stuck three ice cubes down the back of his shirt. Tamaki now had two beautiful braids adorning his hair, courtesy of the girls in the room.  
  


Izuku had been fine so far, considering the bottle hadn’t landed on him. If it did, he only hoped the person spinning would be someone like Tenya or Shoto—neither was all that good at the game, so surely they’d go easy on him?  
  


Alas, his luck never held.  
  


“Woohoo! My turn!” Mina called out cheerfully, and spun the bottle. Much to Izuku’s horror, it stopped dead at his feet. “Alright, Mido! Truth or dare?”  
  


Based on the dares he’d seen the girl give so far, that _wasn’t_ a smart option. “U-um, truth,” he decided timidly.  
  


She shrugged. “Out of the Selected,” she began, and Izuku was worried he already might not like this question. “Who do you think is the hottest? Be honest!”  
  


Izuku glanced around the room, trying to decide. While Momo was gorgeous, she wasn’t exactly his type per se—did he even like girls? Izuku was pretty sure he did, but probably someone more like Ochaco, rather than Momo. Although, did he think that Ochaco was the _hottest_ person here?  
  


Well, there was always the _obvious_ choice, but just thinking of saying Shoto’s name made his face flare up in embarrassment.  
  


In terms of attraction, he found Eijiro to be equally as handsome as Shoto, although he preferred the latter’s company. Eijiro was an absolute sweetheart, for sure, but Shoto was by far his best friend. But wouldn’t it be _weird_ if he said his best friend’s name? Despite the fact that Shoto’s name came to mind first, he thinks Eijiro is just as hot, so it still counts as the truth, right?  
  


“K-Kirishima,” he muttered.  
  


The man in question seemed wholeheartedly surprised by the admission. “Me? Really?”  
  


Izuku merely nodded in response.  
  


He spun, landing inevitably on Neito, who he asked about who he thought would be the next to leave. The blonde scanned the room, pondering the question. “Probably Inasa,” he decided, although the boy in question didn’t seem particularly offended by being called out. “The Prince already shows naturally aggressive tendencies. He needs someone kind, and calm who can rationalize with him and put up with his constant ire. Inasa seems almost a little _too_ enthusiastic to make that great of a match for him.”  
  


He then gave a half-hearted dare to Shiozaki, who ended up discovering that Hanta’s personal hobby was rock climbing. Hanta in turn spun, landing on none other than Denki, who didn’t even wait for Hanta to speak before calling out, “Dare!”  
  


Hanta chuckled. “Eager, eh?” Denki nodded, and Hanta donned a mischievous smirk. “Not for long, blondie, (“Stop calling me blondie!” Denki whined) ‘cause I’ve got a good dare.”  
  


“Hit me!” Denki called out enthusiastically.  
  


“Spin the bottle, and whoever it lands on you’ve gotta lick the cheek of.” Denki’s smile dropped, replaced with a grimace.  
  


No doubt the dare was derived from Hanta’s earlier dare to lick the floor, which had actually been given to him by Denki himself. _Payback_.  
  


The blonde spun, waiting with baited breath for who it would land on. He blanched when looked up from the unmoving bottle, meeting deep, violet eyes.  
  


_He’s gonna kill me._

* * *

Truth or dare? Not so bad, in Hitoshi’s opinion. Getting licked on the cheek by his undeniable crush who was leaning _way_ too close for comfort? Well, that’s just a gay panic waiting to happen.  
  


While the idea originally seems kinda gross and awkward, Denki could literally commit third degree murder and Hitoshi would still look at him and think, _cute_. Is he way in over his head? Yes. Does that give Denki the right to look so damn adorable anyways? _No!  
  
_

Honestly, it’s Denki’s fault for being so amazing that Hitoshi had no choice but to fall in love.  
  


_Wait.  
  
_

When did he decide he was _in love_ with the eccentric blonde? When had it gone from deep fondness and admiration to an inner admittance of _love_?  
  


Oh shit, wait, yeah Denki was _definitely_ leaning in, and oh god Hitoshi’s heart feels like it’s gonna _explode_. Hitoshi must’ve been imagining things, because he could’ve _sworn_ Denki was blushing. As the blonde drew closer, and closer, Hitoshi did about the stupidest thing he could have.  
  


He angled his head towards Denki’s, and kissed him.  
  


_Crickets._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, I just sort of blacked out for a minute and woke up with Kamishin written on my screen
> 
> M o v i n g O n
> 
> Tbh, the friendship between the students of class 1-b is just as sweet as the bonds of class 1-a. We don't see them as often, but I feel like part of the reason Monoma is so competitive is because he's overprotective of his classmates, and hates that him and the rest of them always get overlooked. He doesn't just care about himself, so he's not a necessarily conceited character, he just dislikes how popular 1-a is, and worries it might be going to their heads, and wants to show them up to prove that 1-b is just as good--if not better--than 1-a. Thats my take on him, anways.
> 
> Honestly, wouldn't we all be mildly terrified of a majority of the bakusquad if playing t or d with them? cuz i know i would be
> 
> One time, I read this fic about Izuku coming to terms with his sexuality (my headcanon is that he's bi, but thats just imo btw) because he thought he might have a crush on Todoroki, but wasn't sure if he liked guys since todo was the first guy he liked. So, to like, "make sure" he was looking around during hero training and took one like at kiris abs and was like "yep. im gay". tbh i always thought that idea was kinda funny, so if i mention it in the fic at times that izu finds kiri attractive, i derived it from that.
> 
> Yes, I'm pointedly ignoring the kiss at the end of the chapter, because that wasn't really supposed to happen, but it did, and I love Kamishin too much to change it lmao-
> 
> Next chapter is gonna be the backlash of y o u k n o w w h a t, plus some dates, plus the list ranking the Selected. Also possibly some Hawks and Toko interaction, because I love those two as friends.
> 
> Here's the list of the remaining Selected, plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> So... the next chapter will be out on Tuesday. Can't wait til then :3
> 
> (P.S. I am a l w a y s taking date requests or suggestions)


	23. Call My Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some unexpected shit happened again, that I didn't exactly plan for but I'm not really upset about either.
> 
> The title chapter is based on 'Call my Name' by the Unlikely Candidates. The lyrics have absolutely nothing to do with the contents of this chapter, but the title is somewhat relevant to something that happens, and it's stuck in my head and... here we are
> 
> So that means one less date than expected, but more suspense ;P
> 
> The list ranking the Selected also came out this chapter. It's based on plot relevanceee btw this wouldn't be how I'd rank them based on my favorites. Cuz if so... the whole list, one to twenty, would just be 'Kirishima' ngl-
> 
> Enjoy my shitty writing ;w;

The parlor was absolute _mayhem_.  
  


Fighting and shouting matches broke out, until it was all interrupted by the opening of the door. “Everything alright?”  
  


The room quieted down instantaneously at the sound of Aizawa’s toneless voice. Mina was the first to speak up. “All good, Aizawa! Particularly hilarious dare, is all.”  
  


With that, Aizawa nodded, and left. Mina turned a glare onto the other members of the room. Hitoshi found himself gulping subconsciously.  
  


“What just happened does _not_ leave this room, understand? The crime calls for a _capital punishment_. Hitoshi and Denki are both my friends, and if either of them are killed because of one of _you_ —” Her glare intensified. “Then you _better_ sleep with one eye open.”  
  


Everyone murmured their assent, and the pink-haired girl huffed, before rounding on the two boys in question. “Explain.”  
  


Denki nervously scratched the back of his head. “I’m not really sure . . . I was tryna do my dare and then . . .”  
  


Mina looked expectantly to Hitoshi, who up until then had been completely stunned into silence. He withered under her gaze, immediately feeling guilt well up in his chest. He hadn’t _meant_ to kiss Denki, but his body had moved of its own volition.  
  


“It’s—it’s a long story?” Mina gave him a withering look. “ _Fine_ —Denki can you go talk with Aizawa or something for, I don’t know, ten minutes?”  
  


The blonde in question looked as though he was going to protest, but Hitoshi gave him a pleading look, crumbling Denki’s resolve. He let out a sigh of resignation, before standing up and leaving the room silently. As soon as he was gone, all eyes were back on Hitoshi.  
  


“I didn’t come here because I like the Prince, I came here for the crown,” Hitoshi began. The room broke out into angry shouts of protest, to which he ignored. When the room was yet again silent, he continued. “Like I said, I came here for the crown, _but_ —that’s not why I’m here anymore.  
  


“I’ve lived my life alone, so I’ve never really understood the whole concept of having friends. But now that I know what it’s like to have people that care . . . I just don’t want to leave. I know it’s selfish, and catching feelings for Denki _definitely_ wasn’t part of the plan, and I didn’t mean to kiss him—really. My body moved on it’s own, I guess. I’ll—I’ll tell Katsuki that I’d like to leave and we,” Hitoshi swallowed a lump in his throat. “And all of _you_ can move on like nothing happened. Deal?”  
  


“Nope,” Hanta rejected immediately, popping the ‘p’. “You can’t say all that shit and then try to _leave_ , you’re stuck with us, man. We’re all in it to win it, but if you’re admitting that you don’t care to win—as long as you’re not making advances on Denks, I’m chill with ya staying.”  
  


“I agree,” Izuku piped up. “We’re not super close or anything, but you’re a good guy. I know you wouldn’t try to jeopardize any of our chances, and if you want friends, then there’s no reason for you to leave. The circumstances are definitely . . . odd, but no one here is going to rat you out. They’d have to be seriously messed up to do so.  
  


“But, then again, if you _did_ continue advancing on Kaminari, we probably wouldn’t be able to overlook it a second time, so think of it like a second chance. Redeem yourself, and all that. If you _want_ to leave, of course that’s your choice, but if you want to stay, then who are we to tell you know? The kiss doesn’t have to leave this room, anyways, so long as it doesn’t happen again. And—”  
  


“Izuku,” Shoto interrupted tonelessly. “You’re mumbling.”  
  


Izuku’s face turned bright red with embarrassment, and he fruitlessly attempted to shield his face with his hands. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”  
  


“It’s fine,” everyone chorused simultaneously.  
  


“We should probably bring Denki back in,” Kyoka reminded them. “He might give Aizawa an aneurysm if we leave him out there any longer.”  
  


Hitoshi snorted, nearly forgetting about the former trainwreck of events that took place. When Denki was allowed back inside, everyone got prepped to sleep, decidedly ending truth or dare there, and Tenya turned the lights out. Surprisingly, Denki situated himself right by Hitoshi’s side, leaning over to whisper in his ear.  
  


“We need to talk.”

* * *

Monday morning was a tense affair, what with everyone waiting with baited breath for the list to come out. Some of the Selected were growing increasingly nervous by the minute—namely Izuku and Tamaki. Neito looked unsurprisingly smug throughout the entirety of breakfast, as if he were _guaranteed_ the top spot.  
  


There was a mad dash for the stack of magazines when they saw the new article sitting out, some people snatching a copy of their own up, and some sharing with others.  
  


“Oh, Hanta you read it, I’m too nervous!” Mina said, tossing the article over to Hanta, who caught it effortlessly and began reading out the list of names in order.  
  


“Number one, Neito Monoma, _no surprise there_ ,” the others murmured their agreement. “Number two, Momo Yaoyorozu—aw, good for her, she deserves it. Number three, Shoto Todoroki.”  
  


“No wonder, everyone likes the pretty boy,” Mina added, chuckling.  
  


“Number four—shit _congrats_ Kiri, you got fourth!” Hanta shouted, and Eijiro snatched the magazine from his hands in amazement, staring blankly at his name, right below Shoto’s. “Hey, hey, give it back—unless you’re gonna read it, dude.”  
  


“ _Fourth_?” Eijiro whispered in excitement. “I was expecting like, four _teenth_ or something.”  
  


“You underestimate your own likeableness, Eiji,” Denki contradicted. “Who placed fifth?”  
  


“Mirio, no surprise really,” Hanta revealed, and the others shrugged. “Number 6—ayyy Denki Kaminari.”  
  


Denki let out a loud “Whoop!”, causing everyone to stare in their direction in confusion. Some people weren’t that surprised, probably already having found his name on the list, while others searched hurriedly for it, wondering where he placed.  
  


“Number 7 iiiiiis,” Denki read over Hanta’s shoulder out of excitement, his face lighting up after reading it. “Oh, oh, Camie my girl, congrats on seventh!”  
  


She shot him a thumbs up at the announcement, before Hanta continued reading between his laughter. “Number 8, Hitoshi Shinso,” Hitoshi was pleasantly surprised at this announcement. Making it into the top ten was impressive, even despite the fact he didn’t care much for this competition. “Number 9, our one and only queen, Mina Ashido.”  
  


Mina dramatically flipped her short-cropped hair, basking in the praise. “Number 10, Nejire Hado. Yeah, I get that. Surprised Midoriya didn’t make it into the top ten, though—thought for sure someone with his charisma would be a fan favorite.”  
  


“It was probably the stutter,” Mina pointed out, wordlessly reading over Hanta’s shoulder. “Aw, poor thing! He deserves higher than _sixteenth_ , at least.”  
  


“Number 11, Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu—shit is that really his name?” It was clear Denki was trying to suppress his laughter. “Number 12, Ochaco Uraraka. Number 13, Kyoka Jiro—congrats Kyoka!”  
  


“Thanks,” she replied dryly.  
  


“Number 14,” Hanta continued. “Tenya Iida. Damn, I placed fifteenth? Sheesh, I need to step up my game.”  
  


“Poor Midobro, he should’ve been higher on the list,” Eijiro said dejectedly. “It’s not manly at all to judge someone because of something like a stutter!”  
  


Everyone shook their heads. “Shiozaki placed seventeenth, although she doesn’t look all that upset . . .” The green-haired girls’ features were stony as ever. “Number 18, Inasa Yaorashi. Number 19, Fumikage Tokoyami—yeah, no shit, pretty sure he only said about six words during his interview.”  
  


Mina snorted. “Poor Tama, he ranked last. He didn’t even get an interview!” She said, noticing that Tamaki placed twentieth.  
  


Denki nodded his agreement. “The people don’t decide who win, though, at least.” He offered.  
  


“Easy for you to say, Mr. Number _Six_ ,” Hanta teased. He didn’t mind placing so lowly on the list—after all, he was here for Katsuki. The people’s favor would be important if he did win, but for now, it wasn’t something he needed to stress over.  
  


The Selected all had varying reactions. Shiozaki seemed as bored as ever, and Shoto was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with his high rank. Surely this would please his father, but he _didn’t_ want that. Izuku looked to be near tears—although that wasn’t necessarily uncommon. Shoto took the opportunity to wrap the smaller boy up in a hug and comfort him anyways.  
  


Tamaki was hiding in the corner, refusing to talk to even Mirio and Nejire, who were both trying their best to get him to come out of his shell and sit with them, which was a vain effort. Momo was still shell-shocked to realize she’d ranked _second_ , which no one else seemed to be surprised about.  
  


“No surprise that the top three were all Twos,” Tetsutetsu muttered, with a hint of bitterness in his tone. He’d still ranked fairly well, eleventh wasn’t bad after all, but it didn’t seem entirely like a coincidence that the highest ranking individuals all came from the second highest caste.  
  


Kendo, though, wasn’t having it. “And Kirishima—who ranked fourth, mind you—was a former Seven. Anything else you’d like to say?”  
  


Tetsutetsu grumbled slightly but didn’t continue.  
  


“I . . . I can’t believe I ranked _second_ ,” Momo muttered, awe clear in her tone.  
  


Ochaco shrugged. “Honestly, no one else is that surprised. You’re totally queen material!” She encouraged, before turning to a let-down Izuku. “Personally, I think you should’ve ranked a lot higher, Deku. But you’ll just have to change their minds, yeah?”  
  


He nodded, flashing her a watery smile.  
  


“Not surprising that I came in first, is it?” Neito said, attempting nonchalance. “I _am_ the best candidate here, by _far_.”  
  


“Monoma,” Kendo said in a sickeningly sweet tone. “Shut up.”  
  


He blanched.

* * *

Katsuki heard Kendo approaching before he saw her. She never made any attempts at being sneaky, like Akira, and she had naturally loud footfalls, so it was easy to know when she was coming. The more time they spent together, the closer they got, and Katsuki considered the red-haired girl to be a pretty close friend of his by now. She knew all the ins and outs of his life, due to the nature of her job, and in return she’d often tell him interesting facts and stories about her and her past.  
  


“Your Highness,” she called lightly, and he turned around slowly to meet her. She was holding a magazine in her hands, offering it for him to take, which he did—albeit hesitantly.  
  


“What’s this?”  
  


“The lists,” she explained briefly, gesturing vaguely at the magazine he had in hand. “Popularity polls of the Selected.”  
  


At that, Katsuki hurriedly flipped open the magazine, going through page after page until he found what he was looking for—a list of the twenty Selected, in order based on public opinion.  
  


“Eager, are we?” Kendo asked, referring to his enthusiastic response as she chuckled lowly.  
  


Katsuki growled, although it held no malice. “I’m curious, so what?”  
  


She held up her hands in a placating gesture, waiting for him to read through it.  
  


Katsuki was unsurprised by the top three choices—they seemed like the most obvious candidates, after all. It also seemed Shizuoka agreed with him on his slight preference for Eijiro, despite the redhead’s lower caste. Seeing Hitoshi ranked eighth despite his natural lack of enthusiasm—no doubt a lot of his votes came from Eights or other members of lower castes because of representation.  
  


Izuku ranked sixteenth? That—that in itself was surprising. He’d talked to Izuku on multiple occasions, and while he was no doubt shy, he was also kind-hearted and just. The blonde had not been expecting him to rank so low. And—oh, poor Tamaki. He never even had an interview, so the few votes he did get from the public were probably pity points, unfortunately.  
  


Knowing his mother, she’d probably like to follow after what the public preferred pretty strictly. She’d always been an immediate fan favorite when she took part in her own Selection with Katsuki’s father, and the woman liked having the people’s input in making decisions. Then again, both of his parents were still expecting him to propose to one of the Akuyakuan representatives, which _wasn’t_ happening. He’d be disappointing his parents either way, really.  
  


Just to _spite_ the public, he planned out a date with Tamaki, and requested there to be as many cameramen there as possible to take pictures. Hopefully, well hidden. He wasn’t entirely sure how Tamaki would react if they knew they were being followed, but it couldn’t possibly be good.  
  


A date in the gardens, perhaps? Tamaki had enjoyed it thoroughly last time, and seeing him discover the multitude of bugs and flowers had made Katsuki feel as though he was seeing those sorts of things for the first time as well.  
  


Yeah. The garden it is, then.

* * *

“Where is it we’re going, again?” Keigo asked, allowing Dabi to blindly lead along through the palace halls. Since the blonde knew the place so well, the raven-haired male had been adamant that he had to wear a blindfold for it to remain a surprise, but they’d been walking so _long_ that Keigo was certain they had to be undoubtedly lost by now.  
  


“You’ll see,” Dabi replied ominously, making a sharp left, and dragging a whining Keigo along behind him. “Nearly there, little birdie.”  
  


Keigo tried firmly planting his feet to the ground, refusing to walk any longer, but Dabi just dragged him along anyways with a surprising amount of strength. “Come oooon, just a peak?”  
  


“Nope,” he denied immediately, coming to an abrupt stop. “’Cause we’re here.”  
  


As soon as the door slid shut behind them, Keigo practically ripped the blindfold off, only to be stopped by Dabi. “I haven’t gotten to the surprise part yet, Keigo,” he said, chuckling lowly. “Stay here.”  
  


Keigo huffed indignantly. “ _Fine_.”  
  


Dabi grinned, although he knew the blonde couldn’t see it, and took a seat before the grand piano in the center of the room. Placing his hands delicately, he began to play.  
  


Hesitantly, Keigo peeled the blindfold off, admiring—yet again—the beautiful, and familiar, scenery of the music room that he and Dabi cared to visit on a fairly regular basis. Keigo would often demand that Dabi play him another song his mother taught him, and each time they came, Dabi would reveal to him a little more about his past.  
  


This time, Dabi played a new song, something he hadn’t played for Keigo before, although that wasn’t unusual. He had loads of songs in his musical arsenal, and he seemed to enjoy playing in Keigo’s company. But, somehow, this song felt _different_. Keigo couldn’t place why, but something about it felt off—although in a good way, nonetheless.  
  


When the song was done, a breathtaking silence filled the air. Keigo cautiously took a seat beside Dabi, taking in the beautiful song that had been played for him. “What was that one called?”  
  


Dabi shrugged. “I composed it,” he admitted. Keigo gaped. “For you.”  
  


Suddenly, Dabi felt himself being enveloped in a tearful hug. “You big softie, that’s so sweet!” Keigo shouted, burying his face into Dabi’s neck.  
  


Hesitantly, he returned the hug, relishing in the way Keigo clung to him. _I could get used to this . . .  
  
_

“Glad you liked it, little birdie,” he said softly.  
  


Keigo pulled back, looking at him as though he’d hung the moon. “ _Liked it?_ Dabi, I _loved_ it!” He wiped away a stray tear. “How long have you been working on this?”  
  


“I’ve been trying to come up with something for a while now. Maybe a year?” He admitted, shrugging. “After I met you . . . it gave me the inspiration to finish what I’d started.”  
  


Keigo smiled lightly, leaning his forehead against Dabi’s. “Thank you,” he breathed, nearly silent, but Dabi managed to catch it nonetheless. “Really, it means a lot.”  
  


“Any time, little birdie,” Dabi replied, grinning softly, before leaning in, and closing the gap.  
  


Keigo felt a shock of electricity run up his spine when their lips met. He pulled his body impossibly closer, feeling his breath intermingling with Dabi’s. The raven-haired man gripped Keigo’s hair tightly, and Keigo kept himself steady with a firm grip on each of his shoulders.  
  


The blonde was immensely glad for the fact that he was sitting down, because his knees felt far too weak to stand on them. He wondered if Dabi felt the same way—if he felt a thousand little butterflies fluttering futilely against his ribcage, or if he felt as though all the small bones in his knees had somehow turned to jelly, or if he maybe even felt that searing heat pooling in his chest, filling his body to near brimming with a surplus of _warmth_.  
  


It felt like they’d been there for _hours_ when Keigo had to pull away for some air, gasping in each breath before leaning back in desperately. Dabi kissed him chastely, before pulling away yet again, holding a hand up to tell Keigo to pause.  
  


“There’s something I want to tell you,” he said softly, and Keigo nodded, to show he was listening. “I’ve never been as close to someone as I’ve been with you, with the exception maybe being my mother. No one—and I mean it, _no one_ —knows this but . . . I trust you, Keigo. Swear you won’t tell a soul?”  
  


Keigo grasped Dabi’s hand firmly in his. “I promise you, this secret will never leave this room,” he swore.  
  


Dabi exhaled, grinning crookedly. “What I want to tell you is,” he hesitated ever so slightly, taking in a shaky breath.  
  


“My name.”

* * *

A comfortable silence hung effortlessly between Tamaki and Katsuki. Neither party seemed to mind the quiet, yet instead the older of the two seemed to bask in it. Katsuki understood that Tamaki was not much of a conversationalist, to say the least, and if Tamaki wanted to talk, he’d start a conversation. Otherwise, the blonde was fine with admiring the raven-haired boy from afar as he ventured the gardens, seemingly attracting any species of insect he could find directly to him, like a moth drawn to a flame.  
  


He looked happier than Katsuki had ever seen him, though, and who was he to interrupt the serene atmosphere? It gave him time to think, as well. Especially about his latest conversations with Toga, who was uncharacteristically suspicious of him the entire time.  
  


Despite that, she’d still relayed fairly useful information to him regarding what she and the others have been up to. Seems she’s been spending a lot of her time with the guards—so she’s probably observing them. Watching over when they transition, what areas of the palace are most heavily guarded, and which are the least.  
  


There shouldn’t _be_ any places left unprotected, but as it was now, they didn’t have enough men to spread their forces that wide. Perhaps drafting women wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. Katsuki wasn’t entirely opposed, but he wasn’t sure his parents would take the idea as well as he had. Even his mother—who could easily take on at least half the men in the palace guard single-handedly without breaking a sweat, even despite her age—would most likely disagree with the proposition.  
  


Perhaps he should ask Aizawa his thoughts on the matter.

* * *

“Good, you two have finally arrived,” Aizawa greeted blankly, although it wasn’t anything Denki and Hitoshi weren’t used to. “I have a . . . _hypothetical_ situation for you to consider.”  
  


This wasn’t entirely new, either. Aizawa had been throwing possible scenarios at them for a while, questioning how they’d respond. Denki enjoyed those sorts of lessons—it felt more _real_. It’d also be beneficial if either of them were to become King.  
  


He knew Hitoshi enjoyed these sessions as well— _all_ of them. He and Aizawa were especially close, after all. Despite that, the violet-haired boy seemed uneasy, and no doubt it was because of Denki’s earlier request to ‘ _talk_ ’.  
  


No matter his restlessness, he was the first to speak up. “Alright, shoot. What’s the situation this time?”  
  


“Consider this,” Aizawa began, pacing slowly back and forth in front of the pair. “The members of Shizuoka’s army is based entirely on the draft, which already takes a considerable number of young men away from their families as it is. You can’t increase it, without citizens growing suspicious, but you need to expand your forces nonetheless. What’s your next course of action?”  
  


Denki responded first. “Women can, uh, fight too,” he replied, albeit somewhat unsure.  
  


Aizawa nodded, before looking to Hitoshi for his response. “People could,” he pondered it momentarily. “Volunteer?”  
  


“Good job, you two,” Aizawa praised. “My thoughts exactly.”

* * *

Katsuki would never admit it out loud, but he was _far_ from fond of spiders. In his head, he’d admit he was borderline _afraid_ of the spindly creatures, but if ever accused of being an arachnophobe, he’d deny it outright. So when Tamaki walked towards him, holding out a _huge_ spider sat carelessly on his outstretched palm, it took everything in Katsuki’s willpower not to shriek and run away. He did, however, noticeably flinch, although Tamaki didn’t call him out.  
  


“He’s harmless,” the boy said softly, showing Katsuki the large spider. “It’s just a daddy longlegs. They don’t bite, even. Wanna hold it?”  
  


Katsuki shook his head vigorously, ignoring the way his stomach churned violently at the notion. “I’ll pass.”  
  


Tamaki shrugged, gently setting the creatures down in the tall grass blades, where it scampered off to god knows where. Both boys’ eyes watched it’s departure with rapt attention—one from fascination, and the other in fear.  
  


It was irrational to be afraid of spiders—Katsuki knew that. That didn’t help quench the unexplainable fear squirming in his gut at the sight of the disgusting creature, no matter how harmless.  
  


“You okay, Prince Bakugou?” Tamaki asked, looking at Katsuki with a mix of discernible concern and worry. “You seem a bit green. Perhaps we should go back inside?”  
  


Katsuki didn’t necessarily want to end the date abruptly, but he figured that was just about enough bug sightings he needed for the day, and decidedly nodded. Tamaki led him inside—when had he become so well acquainted with the gardens?—where they ran into a smug Dabi and violently blushing Keigo.  
  


“Hey,” Katsuki greeted lamely, although neither boy seemed to care all that much.  
  


“Um, hey, Your Highness. Were you two just coming from the gardens?” Tamaki nodded meekly. “Oh, nice. It’s so beautiful there, isn’t it? Hope you two had fun—we’re headed there now, ourselves, actually. See you guys another time, yeah?”  
  


“S-sure,” Tamaki agreed, tugging lightly on Katsuki’s sleeve to signify that he wanted to leave—he was uncomfortable around people he didn’t know well, after all.  
  


“We’ve gotta be going now, but it was nice seeing you two, I guess. No fucking in my gardens, kapeesh?”  
  


Katsuki had already turned away before he could see the way Keigo’s face promptly turned an impressive shade of red, or before he could hear the way Dabi muttered, “No promises.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what's n o t happening next chapter? Dabi's name reveal-
> 
> B u t, on the plus side, Kami and Shinso's 'talk' is next chapter so you can look forwards to that at least :P
> 
> Let me tell you, arachnophobia fucking s u c k s. I get so much shit for being afraid of spiders, but they're lowkey t e r r i f y i n g. No one can convince me otherwise, im stubborn as hell.
> 
> I was gonna talk more about stain this chapter but uh- i f o r g o t. there'll be more shit about him next chapter, lol
> 
> There were going to be t w o dates this chapter, but yknow technically Dabi and Hawks' little get together could be considered an impromptu date, all things considered. Katsuki and Tamaki's date wasn't very descriptive, but considering I've only ever been on one date (which sucked. don't ever go on a movie date, least romantic thing you can do, trust me) and I have next to no experience, this is really as good as it gets. This fic is genuinely the extent of my dating life
> 
> Here's a more compact list of the popularity polls ranking the Selected:  
> 1\. Monoma  
> 2\. Momo  
> 3\. Todoroki  
> 4\. Kirishima  
> 5\. Mirio  
> 6\. Kaminari  
> 7\. Camie  
> 8\. Shinso  
> 9\. Mina  
> 10\. Nejire  
> 11\. Tetsutetsu  
> 12\. Uraraka  
> 13\. Jiro  
> 14\. Iida  
> 15\. Sero  
> 16\. Izuku  
> 17\. Shiozaki  
> 18\. Inasa  
> 19\. Tokoyami  
> 20\. Amajiki
> 
> Also, here's the usual list of the Selected plus their caste (it feels like it's been a while since someone's been eliminated--im gonna need to change that ;) ):  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> I'll have the next chapter out on Friday! :P


	24. Stain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time around, but I've just been so distracted lately tbh that it's hard to focus on one story. I have way too many fic and book (as in, like, original shit) ideas that I really want to write out, but I got advice from another writer once to focus on one story at a time so I don't get in over my head. Still, I wanna explore my other ideas too so it's been distracting me a bit from this fic.
> 
> (God, I talk too much, don't I? Wait til you see the end notes about stain lmao-)
> 
> Last chapter I realized that I finally hit 100,000 words. Yay :D
> 
> The title of this chapter is misleading. There's literally only about two paragraphs about Stain tbh
> 
> Enjoy the chapter (sorry it's short)

“You wanted to talk?”  
  


Denki nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Hitoshi’s deep, sultry voice appearing from behind his back. He whirled around, and his golden eyes met violet, staring intensely back at him. Denki did his best to suppress an audible gulp.  
  


“Um,” he paused, as if forgetting what it was he wanted to say. “Y-yeah! Yeah, we need to, um, t-talk."

Hitoshi shifted awkwardly where he stood, directing his gaze towards his shoes rather than at the blonde before him. Denki frowned, and patted the space beside him on the bed, hoping Hitoshi got the message.  
  


Fortunately, it seems he did as he stiffly took a seat beside him. “About the kiss, right?” Denki merely nodded. “Look, really, I’m so sorry Den—”  
  


“No!” Denki shouted, unintentionally cutting Hitoshi off. He flushed with embarrassment, before correcting himself with an apologetic smile. “No, I’m not upset, ‘Toshi. I’m just . . . confused. Why did you kiss me?”  
  


Hitoshi didn’t miss the way Denki’s smile faltered, and he hated the somber look on his face. He’d do anything— _anything_ —to remedy it, but he didn’t understand what was _wrong_.  
  


“Right,” he mutters awkwardly. “You weren’t there for the explanation. Well, uh, you see, I don’t exactly have feelings for the Prince. But, um, I do for _you_.”  
  


Denki’s breath hitched in barely contained excitement, although Hitoshi seemingly mistook it for another emotion, immediately backtracking on his former statement.  
  


“I’m not gonna try and make a move on you or anything, swear it.” He reassured hastily. “I just—you deserve to know. Hadn’t meant for you to get involved in my bullshit, really.”  
  


“God, you _idiot_.” Denki muttered, a fond smile playing on his lips.  
  


Hitoshi gaped at him as if he’d suddenly grown a second head. “Denks, what are you talking ab—”  
  


Yet again, Denki found himself cutting Hitoshi off midsentence, although he didn’t feel nearly as bad about this one. As their lips met, a spark of electricity danced along the blonde’s spine, causing him to shiver with pleasure. The kiss was undeniably brief, cut off only by Denki smiling crookedly into the kiss, making it impossible to continue.  
  


“Sorry,” Denki apologized half-heartedly, still grinning. “I just really, _really_ like you too.”

* * *

“What’s on the agenda for tonight, Katsuki?” Akira asks, curiosity lacing her tone as she peers over at the mindless paperwork Katsuki had been distracting himself with.  
  


He had a date with Eijiro in no less than an hour, which he _still_ wasn’t ready for. In fact, he remained unsure ‘til even now of what he and the redhead would even be doing together during their shared time. He'd gotten distracted by a mixture of work and the public, the latter having been quick to call him out on his blatant display of despondence towards they’re opinion over the Selected by his date with Tamaki a few days ago. After reading the multitude of articles discussing the matter, he’d felt nothing but smug.  
  


Despite that, he still had a date to plan, and Eijiro certainly didn’t deserve for Katsuki to half-ass this. “Not sure, got any ideas?”  
  


“You still hate horror movies, right?” Akira asked, devilish smirk and all, which left a bad taste settling in Katsuki’s mouth.  
  


“Loathe them,” he replied with a sneer.  
  


The brunette clapped her hands together. “Perfect! Horror movie it is!” At Katsuki’s exasperated look, she merely smiled in return, giving him a brief thumbs up. “Just _trust_ me on this, ‘Suki. I know what I’m doing.”  
  


Katsuki scoffed. “You better.”

* * *

Izuku stared forlornly at the TV screen displaying today’s news—yet another story on this “Stain” man. The police had yet to discover a real name, so they’ve apparently taken to calling him that. Outside of the Selection, he’s the biggest talk of the town amongst the citizens of Shizuoka. Even the Selected were feeling the nerves settle in—especially those from higher castes, who he was apparently targeting. While Izuku didn’t worry too much about his mother and Eri, he did fret constantly over Shoto and Tenya’s mental state on the matter.  
  


“Are you _sure_ you’re alright, Shoto?” Izuku asked, yet again, although Shoto had yet to display any discomfort at his blatant anxieties over the matter.  
  


The boy in question was currently splayed out over Izuku’s lap as the latter toyed mindlessly with his mix of red and white hair, mixing the colors into an unintelligible heap. Perhaps he was taking advantage of Izuku’s desperate need to comfort either him or Tenya by growing uncharacteristically clingy—but Izuku didn’t comment, and therefore Shoto made no move to shift from his current position.  
  


“Trust me, I’m fine. Slightly worried over Fuyumi and Natsuo’s safety, but I’ll be okay.” At Izuku’s doubtful expression, Shoto merely sighed, caressing his cheek in a placating gesture and offering him a soft, genuine smile. “My father has the best security money can buy. No need to worry, trust me.”  
  


Izuku huffed, relenting ever-so-slightly. Shoto let out a contented sigh, relaxing further as Izuku massaged his scalp, attempting fruitlessly to part his hair down the center into its respective separation of red and white.  
  


“Don’t bother,” Shoto said, waving his hand away from his head. “I’ll fix it later.”  
  


The greenette hummed his silent agreement, tearing his hand from Shoto’s hair. The heterochromatic boy desperately missed the touch, but as that same arm came wrapping around his shoulders in a loose embrace, he couldn’t find any reason to complain.

* * *

Horror movies were _not_ Katsuki’s thing. It was downright embarrassing how squeamish he was about them—he was _Katsuki Bakugou_ , after all. Katsuki doesn’t _get_ scared. Nonetheless, he avoided watching horror movies at all times. Last time Akira had convinced him into watching, he’d ended up with his face half-buried into her shoulder only half an hour in. After another twenty minutes of that utter _torture_ , she decidedly turned it off, and they watched a lighthearted action movie instead.  
  


He wasn’t sure what Akira’s motive was when setting up for them to watch gore and terrifyingly realistic jump scares, but Katsuki was putting his faith in her. Either this was going to go perfectly according to plan, or he’d be mortified for life. As it was right now, it seems like fate is leaning towards the latter option.  
  


Katsuki could barely contain his nervous energy as Eijiro entered his bedroom, coming to take a seat beside him as he set the movie up. The redhead had his hair down this once, and Katsuki had to admit it looked _really_ good.  
  


“Why do you even bother putting your hair up?” He muttered.  
  


Eijiro gave him a sheepish smile. “I like it when it’s up.” He worried his lip, pausing slightly. “Do you?”  
  


“Yeah,” Katsuki was quick to reply. “I just like it better like this.”  
  


Eijiro pondered that remark as the movie began, soon diverting his attention to the screen. Katsuki was perhaps glad that Eijiro was so easy to admire, because it gave him something to focus on rather than the movie. He could hardly make out Eijiro’s handsome features in the dim lighting, but he’d seen the boy enough times to know what he looks like even without a clear image in front of him.  
  


When Eijiro’s crimson eyes shifted to meet his own, Katsuki felt an undeniable flush rising to his cheeks as he turned towards the screen, hoping Eijiro didn’t realize he had been staring. He doubted that were the case, though.  
  


He had even nearly forgotten, in his embarrassment, _what they were watching_ , and why he was spending his time staring at his date rather than the TV. Because it was a _horror movie_.  
  


Katsuki felt bile rise in his throat at the surreal situation playing out on-screen. Fake or not, it left a feeling of dread pooling in Katsuki’s gut. At the first kill of the movie—well, the first Katsuki had seen—he felt the need to turn away. And turn away he did, burying his face mindlessly into Eijiro’s broad shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut. There were no words in the English or Japanese dialect that could properly describe his _mortification_ at the whole situation.  
  


Rather than make fun of him, Katsuki merely felt the vibrations of Eijiro’s silent laughter ringing soundlessly. Katsuki huffed, but otherwise didn’t move from his position, pulling himself closer to the redhead at every scream or particularly gory sound effect.  
  


Eijiro wrapped his arms around Katsuki in a comforting yet somewhat protective gesture, holding him as the blonde did his best to block out the movie they were watching.  
  


“We can turn it off if you’d like,” Eijiro murmured, right beside the shell of his ear.  
  


Katsuki shook his head, although he was curled up so tightly in Eijiro’s arms that the motion was nearly imperceptible. “I don’t really feel like moving.”  
  


Eijiro chuckled, but seemingly refocused on the movie. Katsuki doubted the screen had the redhead’s undivided attention, and he had to admit Akira’s plan was working flawlessly, after all.  
  


The blonde wasn’t entirely sure when he began to doze off, but next thing he knew he was been woken up by the slamming of the door and someone yelling for him to get up. Silence enveloped the room for a mere moment as Katsuki opened his eyes, blearily blinking at the fuzzy sight of Akira standing in his doorway, wearing a shit-eating grin.  
  


“Guess you owe me a thanks, huh ‘Suki?” She asked, clearly not fighting to keep the smugness out of her tone.  
  


Katsuki threw a pillow at her, although it missed by a mile due to his sleepy state. “Shut the fuck up,” he muttered tiredly, laying back down and wrapping himself back up in Eijiro’s arms. He could ignore the world and sleep next to this amazing man for five more minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me clarify a few things about Stain. I got a little distracted by writing tododeku fluff that I might not have made things about him very clear. The Selected will never directly interact with Stain, and the chance to properly explain his motivations pertaining to the setting of this fic might never come up again, so for anyone who cares, here ya go:  
> Pretty much, Stain hates the caste system. He came originally from a low caste, and started out by attending protests to advocate against them (similar to how he was originally a vigilante before becoming a criminal, ig?), but when that wasn't making enough of an impact, he took matters into his own hands. He's been brutally slaughtering members of higher castes to try and send a message to the capital--and namely the palace--to change the standards of the country. So, yeah, there's Stain for ya.
> 
> Tbh, I kinda want to dedicate the entire next chapter to some dabihawks shenanigans (plus Dabi's name reveal ;P yall already know what it is im just trying to be dramatic lol)
> 
> Here's the list of the 20 Selected, plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> After the dabihawks chapter, I'm gonna have a group date chapter. I'll have the next one out on...Tuesday, I think. (It's Friday, right?) Anyways, see y'all whenever I post next! ;3


	25. Touya Todoroki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the name reveal is finally here (pfft its all for dramatics i revealed the name in the tags ages ago lol)
> 
> This chapter includes a date, but thats not the main focus. The title isn't even all that relevant to the main focus, cuz this chapter is really just about dabihawks tbh
> 
> Enjoyyyy ^^

Keigo wasn’t entirely sure when it was, but at some point he’d begun to refer to the gardens in his head as his and Dabi’s ‘spot’. They were there more often than not, and despite Katsuki’s loud protests whenever he or one of the other Selected caught them, they’d made out there more times than either could count since unofficially getting together.  
  


When Dabi suggested purposely figuring out when Katsuki was in the gardens for the sole purpose of following him in and intentionally pissing him off, Keigo hadn’t spared a second before agreeing to the plan with a cheeky grin.  
  


Perhaps he felt a little bad when seeing Katsuki enter the gardens walking side-by-side with Shiozaki—clearly the two were on a date—but his desire to tease the hot-headed blonde won over, and silently, Dabi and him trailed the pair. He could barely contain his giggles as they walked after them, waiting for a good opportunity.  
  


As soon as the pair turned back in Dabi and Keigo’s direction, they were on each other. The kiss was loud, and aggressive, and their teeth clinked together painfully as they hurriedly came together.  
  


“Seriously?” An exasperated voice came from behind Keigo’s back, and their lips disconnected with a loud pop. “I swear you guys are fucking stalking me at this point.”  
  


Dabi grinned devilishly, making direct eye contact with Katsuki as he brushed a sloppy kiss over Keigo’s jawline. “My bad, _Your Highness_. We didn’t know you’d be here.”  
  


“Yeah, yeah, sure you didn’t,” Katsuki replied dryly, sounding wholly unconvinced. “C’mon, let’s finish our fucking date somewhere else, I guess.”  
  


Keigo smirked at the retreating pair. “This won’t be the last time we do this, will it?” He asked his partner in a lilting tone.  
  


“Absolutely not.”

* * *

Dabi could effectively melt Keigo’s heart in a multitude of ways. Whether it be with his mischievous, taunting smirk, or his to die for piano playing, Keigo simply found himself falling harder for the raven-haired man with each passing day. Their relationship had progressed rather quickly in a short amount of time, but he never felt they were rushing things. This was a pace he was comfortable with, and considering Dabi was often the one to initiate, it seemed he was as well.  
  


But despite the undeniable comfortability of their relationship, Keigo constantly felt the need to pour _more_ of himself into everything he did in relation to Dabi. Dabi, who had many incredibly beautiful and sexy talents, was light-years out of Keigo’s league, considering he didn’t really have anything to offer other than his royalty. And he was never one to gloat his status, regardless.  
  


He’d considered taking up a hobby to impress Dabi with, but how much time would he truly have to get good at whatever he chose? He’d be leaving the palace directly after Katsuki’s marriage, and while it did seem like a long duration of time, Keigo was well aware of the fact that he’d be married only about a week after choosing his suitor out of the Selected. Was that really enough time to pick up a new skill entirely?  
  


So, that was out of the question, although it certainly couldn’t hurt to find something he enjoyed doing in his spare time—other than Dabi, of course. But his former train of thought posed another question; what would happen between him and Dabi when they both inevitably had to leave the palace? Would he be able to convince Dabi to come back with him to Fukuoka?  
  


“I can hear you thinking, little birdie,” Dabi drawled tonelessly, effectively breaking Keigo out of his self-induced stupor with a mindless nudge to the shoulder. “What’s up?”  
  


Keigo shrugs, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s nothing.” Dabi gave him a blank look. “It’s just, like, what are we gonna do once we both have to leave?”  
  


They walked on in silence for a few minutes as Dabi pondered Keigo’s question. Both men had been blatantly avoiding any talk of the far future, but it inevitably had to be discussed, one way or the other.  
  


“We’ll come to a conclusion when we get there.” Dabi finally said, albeit hesitantly.  
  


Keigo sighed. “Trust me, I wanna talk about this as much as you do, but it can’t be avoided forever.” He reminded him reluctantly.  
  


“We’ve known each other for a week, birdie,” Dabi replied. “Let’s not make any rash decisions just yet. We’ve been moving pretty fast, but we only just met. As of right now, neither of us are sure if there even will be a future for us a couple. Give it time.”  
  


The blonde sighed reluctantly, but took Dabi’s hand in his nonetheless, cherishing the moments they did have. “Alright. We’ll worry about it later.”

* * *

“So are you and that foreign prince finally together, or what?”  
  


“Once again Toga, his name is _Keigo_ , not ‘that foreign prince’,” Dabi reminded her tiredly. “And yeah, I guess we are. Not like it’s any of your business.”  
  


The blonde girl huffed, a pout resting on her lips. “It absolutely is my business! I’m your best friend, after all.”  
  


Dabi rolled his eyes, smirking slightly. “I don’t _have_ a best friend,” he replied.  
  


She merely crossed her arms, sighing indignantly. “You say that _now_ , just you wait. I _will_ be the maid of honor at you and _Keigo’s_ future wedding,” she said in a dreamy tone.  
  


“I’m a guy.”  
  


“Still!”

* * *

“So you and that prince guy, huh?” Twice asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Hey! We’re here to seduce Prince Bakugou! Not some other blonde asshole!”  
  


Dabi rolled his eyes, ignoring his friend for the most part. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Can’t I have a little fun?” He asked teasingly, a playful smirk dancing across his lips.  
  


Twice merely shrugged. “I don’t mind you guys being all lovey-dovey.” He sighed. “I wish Toga were like that around me!”  
  


The raven-haired man shrugged, cocking an eyebrow. “Why don’t you ask her out?”  
  


The blonde man in question gave him a surprisingly blank look, as if it were obvious. “She’d never say yes, I’m too old,” he replied dejectedly. His expression suddenly brightened. “I’m gonna go ask her out right not! No way will she turn me down!”  
  


He ran out of the room in a hurry, leaving a sighing Dabi in his wake. About ten minutes later, Twice returned, looking vaguely like a kicked puppy.  
  


Dejectedly, the blonde buried his head in his hands. “There’s no way Toga will ever love me!”  
  


Dabi sighed, entirely too tired for his friends’ bullshit.

* * *

“Hawks,” Fumikage greets blandly.  
  


Keigo takes a silent seat beside the brooding teen, gazing across the palace grounds in wonderment. The roof view still amazed him, no matter how many times he’d been up here with Dabi. To be fair, they’d often been a little . . . _preoccupied_ while together on the roof.  
  


“Tokoyami, good to see ya,” he replies, smiling casually.  
  


He wasn’t entirely sure why Fumikage had taken to calling him ‘Hawks’, other than the ominous and heavily undetailed response of “Because you remind me of one.”  
  


No matter, he didn’t mind the nickname, and he was trying to think of one in return. Fumikage certainly had bird-like features as well, but that felt almost _too_ obvious. For now, he was leaning heavily towards ‘Tsukuyomi’.  
  


“You too,” Fumikage replied dryly, hardly even glancing Keigo’s way. “What brings you up here in this ungodly hour of twilight?”  
  


Keigo merely shrugs, decidedly ignoring Fumikage’s odd manner of speech. “Dabi’s busy, so I figured I might as well wander around. Glad I bumped into you, though.”  
  


Fumikage remains eerily silent, gazing faithfully at the palace, lit merely by the waning moonlight.  
  


“Are you two dating?”  
  


Keigo sputtered, having not expected _that_. Fumikage hardly ever questioned Keigo on _anything_ , instead indirectly answering questions directed towards him, and mostly making small talk until the two parted ways. For him to be curious—over something so _trivial_ , no less—was honestly quite a surprise.  
  


“We—” Keigo paused, pondering the question.  
  


Yeah, they went everywhere together, and some of that time could be considered ‘ _dates_ ’. They’d kiss, and hold hands, and do all that sappy shit couples do, and some of the . . . _naughtier_ things as well. Despite all that, they’d never outright admitted they were dating. So; could they classify their relationship with one another as being a couple?  
  


“Yeah, I suppose we are,” Keigo decided warily. He certainly didn’t want to be spreading rumors that him and Dabi were dating if the raven-haired man wasn’t comfortable with that, but what else is he to say? “We do all the stuff couples do. Just ain’t official yet, I guess.”  
  


Fumikage nodded, allowing a comfortable silence to hang in the air, as they basked in the mere ease of each other’s presence.

* * *

Meeting up with both Kendo and Akira in Katsuki’s room to discuss whatever relevant topics were on their mind became a regular occurrence. Whether they talked about a possibly impending war with Akuyaku, or simply gossiped mindlessly about the Selected, Katsuki enjoyed both girls’ company nonetheless.  
  


As it was now, Kendo and Akira were having an animated discussion about who was the most attractive of the Selected.  
  


“Y’know . . . Tetsutetsu’s pretty good-looking,” Kendo said mindlessly, twirling a strand of orange hair around her index finger.  
  


Akira looked doubtful. “Yeah, I guess, but he’s not the _best_ looking. What about Todoroki?”  
  


The redhaired girl nodded her immediate agreement. “He’s stunning. I think some of the other Selected might even have a crush on him, to be honest.”  
  


Katsuki quirked on eyebrow, but didn’t comment. “What if you included in the Akuyakans? Or prince whatever-his-name-is?”  
  


His best friend leveled a blank stare at him. “You know his name, Katsuki, don’t be an ass,” she reprimanded half-heartedly.  
  


“I think it just comes naturally to him,” Kendo replied mindlessly, pointedly avoiding Katsuki’s eyes as he leveled an intense glare her way and all but _snarled_.  
  


“Shut the hell up, fuckface!” He shouted, causing both Kendo and Akira to burst out into respective fits of laughter. “Whatever. You’re both wrong about the hottest Selected, anyways, you fucking dumb fucks.”  
  


Kendo leaned towards him, intrigued. “Oh? And who might that be?”  
  


“Tch.” He huffed, looking away. Kendo and Akira simultaneously pleaded with him, and he finally gave in, mumbling under his breath, “Shitty hair, who the fuck else?”  
  


Akira immediately squealed, causing Katsuki to cover his ears. “Oh, I knew it! You two are so _cute_!”  
  


Kendo wholeheartedly agreed. “But hey, if we’re adding in Prince Keigo, I think he might just give Todoroki a run for his money, y’know?”  
  


“Fair,” Akira agreed, shrugging. “But aren’t him and Dabi . . . y’know?”  
  


“Fucking?” Katsuki asked tonelessly.  
  


“I was gonna say _dating_ ,” Akira corrected, snorting at her friends antics. “Do you think the Prince knows what Dabi is technically here to do?”  
  


“If you mean to marry Katsuki, probably? They tell each other everything, so what’s the point in keeping it a secret?” Kendo piped up.  
  


Katsuki scoffed. “Not like I plan to marry scarface anyways. I’d rather shit a brick.”  
  


“First of all, _gross_ ,” Akira replied, scrunching her nose in disgust. “Second of all, what about Toga? Or Twice?"  
  


“Twice is too fucking old, not to mention a lot off his rocker,” Katsuki sneered. “And Toga’s a crazy ass bitch. Hell to the no.”  
  


Kendo shrugged. “Fair,” her and Akira replied simultaneously.

* * *

Keigo stiffened slightly where he sat, staring at Dabi in open-mouthed shock. “Your—your _name_?” He questioned incredulously.  
  


While he was surprised, he certainly wasn’t disappointed. _No one_ knew Dabi’s name—supposedly not even Toga or Twice. It was _huge_ that he was trusting him—and Keigo was never gonna break that trust.  
  


Dabi huffed out a laugh, smiling slightly at Keigo’s reaction. “Yes, my name. You’ll probably recognize when you hear it, actually.”  
  


Keigo was certainly skeptical. He didn’t know many citizens in Shizuoka—in fact, he really only was well acquainted with the royalty as well as a few of the Selected. Other than that, he was pretty much clueless.  
  


“Trust me, you’ll know it.”  
  


The blonde sighed, and gave Dabi an expectant look. “Okay, okay, just tell me. The suspense is killing me!”  
  


That comment earned a snort. “I’ve got a whole sob story behind the name and shit, but I’ll tell you about that . . . later.” Keigo kind of wanted to ask, but that could wait. My name is . . .  
  


“Touya Todoroki.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, hes a todoroki, t o t a l l y unexpected, right? (i hope you can feel the sarcasm)
> 
> Also, dabihawks is just too amazing. I loved dedicating an entire chapter just for them, and I wouldn't mind doing so again in the future ;P
> 
> Next chapter is a group date, with some side drama. I'll have it out on Friday ^w^
> 
> Here's the usual list of the 20 selected plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> More Stain drama will ensue soon, plus some drama within the palace ;) cya Friday!


	26. Endeavwhore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little rushed, so apologies if it isn't, like, top notch. 
> 
> It's just Katsuki's parents being little shits (although when are they not tbh) and a group date.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Katsuki.”  
  


His mother greeted her son in a cold tone, nodding her head slightly in acknowledgement. Katsuki huffed, glaring at her blank expression. “Old hag.”  
  


“Sit down, son, let’s talk,” his father said in a soothing voice, although Katsuki blatantly ignored the request.  
  


“Then talk.”  
  


Masaru sighed, giving his son a tired smile. Mitsuki was wonderful, but sometimes she could be a little . . . _much_. It certainly didn’t help his mental state that their son was near carbon copy of her.  
  


“It’s been a while since you’ve had an elimination, hasn’t it, son?” Masaru pointed out in a purposely soothing tone.  
  


Despite that, Katsuki bristled. “I don’t really think it’s been long at all, actually.” He bit back in a notably sharp tone of voice.  
  


“It’s not really up for debate, is it, brat?” Mitsuki snapped, earning her a snarl from Katsuki in return. “We’re just sayin’, it’s high time you got rid of someone. What about that boy who placed last in the popularity polls?”  
  


“He had a _panic attack_ on set! _That’s_ why he’s ranked so lowly!” Katsuki exclaimed angrily. “How heartless can you be?”  
  


“Exactly why maybe it’s best if he leaves. Someone who can’t properly handle the spotlight isn’t fit to be King,” Masaru explains slowly.  
  


“You’re as much a pansy as Tamaki is, if not more, old man, so don’t go talking this ‘ _isn’t fit to be King_ ’ bullshit at me!”  
  


Katsuki was visibly seething, glaring pointedly at both of his parents. He genuinely _enjoyed_ Tamaki’s company, as well as the rest of the Selected, so why were they so adamant about ruining this for him.  
  


Mitsuki sighed disdainfully. “Whatever, brat. It’s your choice. We were just making a _suggestion_. It’s high time you eliminated another one of the Selected,” she snarked. “What does it matter anyways? You won’t be marrying any of them anyways. If it were up to me, I’d be having you marry Dabi. He seems like the most _responsible_ candidate, by far.”  
  


Katsuki scoffed. “Sorry, but he’s a little too busy having sex with Prince Keigo. But really, if you want me to start with _that_ whole mess, be my guest. I’m not marrying Dabi either way, so you can shut the hell up about this dumbass Akuyaku alliance. It ain’t gonna fucking happen.”  
  


“So you want us to go to _war_ —”  
  


“Yes!” Katsuki yelled, exasperated. “If that’s what it takes to avoid our country being overrun by Akuyaku—then war _is_ the preferable answer! Why are both so fucking _dense_?! How can you not _see_ that!?”  
  


Masaru immediately attempted to soothe both his wife and son. “Listen, let’s all just _calm_ _down_ for a moment—”  
  


“No!” Katsuki and Mitsuki shout simultaneously.  
  


“I don’t understand why you’re being so fucking stubborn!” Mitsuki yelled at her son, anger overtaking her features. “This is a _serious_ matter! You could never understand what’s at _stake_ here, you ungrateful _brat_!”  
  


“I understand it a hell of a lot better than you do, old hag!” Katsuki shot back. “This marriage alliance isn’t. Fucking. Happening. Get _over it_!”  
  


“ _Get out!_ ”  
  


And for once, Katsuki listened to his mother.

* * *

Katsuki was still understandably pissed later in the day, even as Akira reminded him he had a group date coming up with all the Selected. They were playing hide and seek—somewhat childish, but Katsuki had never played before, and some of the Selected had seemed downright _appalled_ when he mentioned that fact.  
  


So here he was, standing tiredly at Akira’s side as she explained the rules for those who didn’t already know, although it was fairly self-explanatory.  
  


“Pretty much, we’re gonna have five people seeking, since there’s so much ground to cover, and once one of the proclaimed ‘ _seekers_ ’ sees you, you’re out.” She said slowly. “Got it?”  
  


Everyone murmured their agreement.  
  


“Great! To make it even easier for the seekers since this place is so big, I’m gonna group you guys up in pairs of two to hide together!”  
  


“Can’t we just choose our own partners?” Shoto asked tonelessly.  
  


Akira shrugged. “I wanted something to do, to be honest,” she admitted sheepishly, before lining everyone up and pairing them off randomly.  
  


The last five remaining—those being Momo, Mirio, Tetsutetsu, Tokoyami, and Mina—were decided as the seekers, and the rest were paired off into impromptu groups.  
  


“You guys can join two groups of two to make a group of four if you want, but remember it’ll make it easier for them to find you! You have three minutes to hide, since this place is so big, starting . . . now!”  
  


Everyone ran off into different directions, with the exception being Kyoka and Camie, as well as Denki and Eijiro, who had made the split second decision to form into a makeshift team of four.  
  


“Let’s go to the movie theater!” Eijiro whisper-shouted, indirectly guiding them there as they ran. “It’s dark, and there are lots of small nooks and crannies to hide in!”  
  


“Lead the way, red,” Kyoka muttered, following after as the redhead took charge.  
  


Izuku hurriedly followed after Hitoshi, although he felt a little unsure. He still had yet to really figure out his way around the palace.  
  


“Do you know where you’re going?” He asked uncertainly.  
  


“Yeah,” Hitoshi replied. “The gardens. Being outside calms me, especially if we’re supposed to be hiding somewhere small and enclosed.”  
  


Izuku’s face lit up. “Oh! That’s smart! That place is like a maze, so even if they check there, it’ll be hard for them to find where we’re at nonetheless! Good idea, Shinso!”  
  


Hitoshi’s face flushed from the praise. “Uh, sure.”  
  


“I know my way around this place better than anyone else here, just let me lead the way,” Katsuki grumbled, walking side-by-side with Tenya at a much too glacial pace.  
  


Tenya propped his glasses up on his nose. “Certainly! I shall place my undivided faith in you, Your Highness, for this task! Lead the way!”  
  


Katsuki suppressed a sneer at the overly formal tone of voice being directed towards him.  
  


“Hey, hey! I have an idea, what about the kitchens?!” Nejire suggested excitedly, and Ochaco squealed in agreement.  
  


“Yeah! There are so many people around, so we can just blend in!” She agreed, and they took off in the direction the kitchens were located at a quick pace.  
  


“The best course of action is to find ourselves surrounded by nature,” Shiozaki said slowly, lagging behind slightly as Hanta thought desperately for a possible place to hide.  
  


Then it occurred to him. “You mean the gardens?” A slow nod. “Sweet! Good idea, Shiozaki!”  
  


The green-haired girl flushed, ignoring the fluttery feeling in her chest. “Thanks.”  
  


“What about the gardens, Inasa?” Shoto suggested blankly.  
  


Inasa openly bristled. “That’s a terrible idea, Todoroki! Everyone will probably have thought of that!”  
  


Shoto shrugged. “Where do you suggest, then?”  
  


“Oh, don’t be so snarky.” Shoto gave him a blank look. “The swimming pool locker rooms? There are bathroom stalls in there we can hide in, I guess.”  
  


“They’ll see our feet under the stall,” Shoto pointed out.  
  


Inasa huffed, glaring intensely at the heterochromatic boy. “Then what do you suggest?!”  
  


A blink. “The gardens, obviously.”  
  


“Erm, any hiding places you have in mind, Amajiki?” Neito asked, shifting uncomfortably.  
  


Tamaki kept a safe distance away from the blonde boy. “The corner,” he muttered, hiding his face.  
  


Neito blanched. “We’re screwed . . .”  
  


After the three minutes were up, the five seekers discussed what sections of the castle they’d be searching, and set off. Momo easily had the best sense of direction, so she was going to the gardens first. No doubt it was going to be housing a few of the Selected, as it was naturally the most obvious spot for them to hide.  
  


She was hardly winded as she approached the towering gardens, entering cautiously and keeping a sharp eye to her surroundings. Momo treaded as lightly as she could, hoping not to alert anyone to her presence.  
  


Izuku watched on in fear as Momo stalked past where he and Hitoshi were hiding. The purple-haired boy was firmly grasping Izuku’s shaking shoulders, trying to simultaneously ground him and keep him somewhat quiet.  
  


“It’s just a game,” he muttered, and Izuku barely picked up on the sound. “No need to worry.”  
  


Izuku nodded slightly, and felt his body relax slightly. “Is she gone?”  
  


Hitoshi checked once more for any sign of the raven-haired girl, before deciding it was safe. “All cle—”  
  


“Found you!”  
  


Izuku would later feel incredibly bashful over the girlish shriek that passed his lips at that moment.

* * *

Neito ultimately ended up splitting up with Tamaki, allowing the shy boy to return to Mirio’s side instead. Luckily, he managed to find another group, consisting of Inasa and Shoto, fairly easily as they hid in the bowling alley. The two couldn’t stop their never-ending stream of bickering—mostly Inasa yelling at Shoto, really—and it was starting to get on Neito’s last nerve.  
  


“Someone’s here,” Shoto pointed out dryly, and Neito realized that, yes Tetsutetsu had just entered the room. “So shut up, Inasa.”  
  


His voice held no real malice, but Inasa got offended nonetheless. “Don’t you tell me to shut up, asshole!”  
  


Shoto blinked in surprise at him just as Tetsutetsu swiveled to face them, calling out, “Found ya!”  
  


As if it weren’t already obvious enough.  
  


“Good job, idiot, you got us caught.” Neito snapped at Inasa, who didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. He sighed. “Come on.”  
  


“Not until he apologizes,” Inasa said coldly, glaring at Shoto, who was still giving him a rather quizzical look.  
  


Shoto knew he was bad at understanding social cues, but he couldn’t fathom what he’d actually done wrong to upset Inasa so. He tilted his head in mild confusion, feeling the annoyance radiating off of Neito in waves, and the anger from Inasa. What had he done?  
  


“What for?”  
  


“For telling me to shut up! What, you think you’re _so_ much better than me just ‘cause you’re rich?” Inasa huffed. “I don’t care about you or daddy’s dirty money. You can shove that pretentious attitude up your ass, Todoroki!”  
  


“Oh, can it, baldie!” Neito shouted, seeing the hurt look on Shoto’s face. “If anyone here is pretentious, it’s me. Get over your beef with him, and _move on_. It’s annoying the hell out of the rest of us.”  
  


Tetsutetsu looked understandably confused, and Shoto still seemed to be pondering what he’d done wrong. “I’m sorry?” Shoto said unsurely, phrasing it more like a question.  
  


“Guess you _do_ have the capacity to actually apologize. Maybe the _one_ thing you don’t have in common with your dad.” Inasa said bitterly, mostly ignoring the confused and insincere apology.  
  


Shoto’s face immediately hardened. “Don’t talk about my father.” He replied coldly.  
  


Neito swore the temperature had actually gone down a couple degrees. “Or what? You can’t do anything to me, pretty boy.”  
  


The heterochromatic boy glared icily at Inasa. “You wanna bet?”  
  


“Just means I won’t have to put up with your cold-hearted ass any longer,” Inasa spat venomously. “Just admit it—you’re _just_ like your father.”  
  


“I am _nothing_ like him, you bastard!”  
  


“What’d you call me?!”  
  


“A fucking _bastard_. Just like my _dad_!”  
  


Before anyone could take proper stock of the slowly spiraling situation, Inasa lunged, and landed a direct hit right on Shoto’s nose, causing a resounding _crack!_ to echo throughout the mostly empty room.

* * *

Tamaki was attached by the hip to Mirio’s side, keeping his head hanging down in embarrassment. He felt bad for having left Neito to his own devices, but perhaps the blonde would actually do better without Tamaki around to drag him down. He’d managed to run into Mina first, rather than Mirio, but the pink-haired girl was fine with simply guiding the raven-haired boy to his friends’ side, and he was immensely grateful.  
  


They’d only been searching together for around a half hour, but Tamaki was still the only one yet to be ‘found’ by the blonde, if he really even counted. Mirio apparently didn’t have the best sense of direction, and they’d already gotten lost on multiple occasions.  
  


“I think I heard something,” Tamaki muttered, pausing for a moment. Mirio stopped for a moment, looking around in confusion.  
  


“Oh! That’s just the kitchens! It’s probably just the staff inside, cooking.” Mirio said, making a move to bypass the room completely.  
  


Tamaki took a gentle hold of his arm. “Exactly. Where better to hide than in plain sight, right?”  
  


Mirio grinned impishly, following Tamaki’s lead.  
  


Somehow, Nejire and Ochaco had sweet-talked the staff into allowing them to hide in two consecutive cabinets by the far back of the kitchen. Surely, no one would think to even look in this room at all—it wasn’t the most obvious choice, after all.  
  


The staff didn’t bother the two girls, instead minding their own business and blatantly ignoring the cabinets they’d crawled inside of. It was a bit of a tight fit, but Ochaco had been determined from the start to win this.  
  


“Hey!” A cheery voice called out, one Nejire immediately recognized to be Mirio’s. “Seen anyone unusual pass through here recently?”  
  


Nejire blanched. “Ochaco, that’s Mirio talking!”  
  


“I know!” Ochaco replied anxiously. “Just stay quiet.”  
  


And so they both did. They could hear two pairs of footsteps—so Mirio wasn’t alone—walking around, searching the kitchen for any sign of the Selected.  
  


“I don’t think anyone is here, Mirio,” Tamaki muttered absently, checking yet another cabinet.  
  


Mirio was peering disdainfully inside one of the currently unused ovens, before shutting it and moving on. “We haven’t checked everywhere, yet. Let’s keep on searching!”  
  


“If you say so . . .”  
  


Ochaco held her breath as she felt them growing steadily closer, opening one cabinet door after another. Right as someone stopped outside where Nejire was at, she could barely contain her shaky breathing.  
  


“Found you!” Mirio called out joyously, after opening the door to the sight of Nejire holed up inside.  
  


“Oh, oh, too bad! Guess I gotta think smarter next time, huh?” Nejire said, shifting uncomfortably. “Little help, please?”  
  


Mirio carefully maneuvered his friend out of the tight space, the girl in question rolling her shoulders and popping her back. “I’m guessing your little friend’s in there?”  
  


Ochaco held her breath. “Oh! No, we split up!” She let out the breath in relief.  
  


Mirio shrugged, seemingly buying it. “That’s too bad, but, at least the squad’s back together! Help us seek, yeah, Nejire?”  
  


“Sure!”

* * *

“No offense, Kirishima, but this ‘ _hiding spot_ ’ fucking sucks.”  
  


“Oh, yeah, Jiro, absolutely _no_ offense taken.” Eijiro gave the girl a blank look, being met with a careless shrug.  
  


“Shut up, guys, we’re gonna draw even more attention to ourselves!” Denki said in a failed attempt at a whisper.  
  


“Do you even _know_ how to be quiet?” Kyoka asked, raising one eyebrow quizzically.  
  


The door opened, and an unnatural hush fell over the group. “What a mad banquet of darkness . . .” A familiar voice called out, roaming the dark room.  
  


Eijiro held his breath anxiously, waiting for Fumikage to inevitably find them. Oddly enough, the raven-haired boy seemed to be able to see much better in the dark than the rest of the Selected, so there was no doubt he’d spot them easily.  
  


“There you all are,” Fumikage appeared suddenly behind them, scaring the shit out of Eijiro.  
  


Denki shrieked.

* * *

Katsuki shifted uncomfortably in his crouched position, back pressed up against Tenya’s side as they hid behind the currently closed doorway. It was a rather rudimentary hiding spot, but they were in a mostly deserted wing of the palace. There was a low chance anyone searching even had any knowledge of this area.  
  


“Are you sure we won’t be found here?” Tenya asked uncertainly for the umpteenth time.  
  


Katsuki huffed. “Yes, I’m _sure_.”  
  


So maybe his tone had been a _little_ sharp, but it was mostly Tenya’s fault for aggravating him, after all. The two continued mindlessly bickering, voices growing louder and louder with each back-and-forth comment.  
  


“We chose to hide simply behind the _door_. That idea is so elementary!” Tenya opposed.  
  


“Trust me, no one knows about this place. _No one_ will find us!”  
  


“You sure about that?”  
  


Katsuki would never admit to having flinched at the feminine voice speaking up from behind his back. He spun around, being met face-to-face with none other than an impishly grinning Mina Ashido.  
  


“You guys _really_ shoulda been more quiet if you didn’t wanna get found.” She said teasingly, allowing them space to get up and follow her out of the room. “It’s already been an hour, and the only other person I’ve seen is Amajiki, who went to hang with Mirio. I say we head back to the common room and wait to hear on everyone else’s progress, yeah?”  
  


“Sure,” Katsuki and Tenya chorused unenthusiastically.  
  


“How the hell do you even know about this place, Pinky?” Katsuki grumbled.  
  


Mina shrugged. “Got lost with some of the other girls around here not too long ago. This is where I was planning to hide, so I thought one of the other girls would come here too. Guess I got lucky, eh?”  
  


Katsuki tsked, mostly ignoring the question. Akira was flipping absentmindedly through a magazine as she waited for them to return.  
  


“You coulda joined us, y’know,” Katsuki points out upon seeing her.  
  


The brunette shrugs. “I’ve only been here a few minutes. Had other stuff I had to get done.” Katsuki grunted in acknowledgement.  
  


The next group to arrive was Mirio, Tamaki, and Nejire, who were all chatting animatedly with one another. “Nejire? Weren’t you partnered up with Ocha?” Mina asked in mild confusion.  
  


The blue-haired girl shrugged. “I know where’s she’s hiding, but I’m keeping it a secret for now. She seemed pretty set on winning!” Nejire directed a mischevious smile at her clearly surprised friends, before taking a seat besides Mina.  
  


A proud looking Momo soon entered with four people trailing after her; Izuku, Hitoshi, Shiozaki, and Hanta, respectively.  
  


“You went to the gardens, right?” Nejire asked, receiving a curt nod. “Yeah, I figured more than a few people would go there!”  
  


Denki and Camie entered together, so lost in their animated discussion that they didn’t spare the other Selected a glance. A more subdued Kyoka and Fumikage followed the pair in, finished off by Eijiro.  
  


“Where were you extras hiding?” Katsuki piped up snarkily.  
  


Eijiro smiled bashfully, rubbing the nape of his neck. “The movie theater. Turns out it wasn’t as good a spot as we’d expected.”  
  


“You mean as good as _you’d_ expected,” Kyoka fired back.  
  


“Hey, hey, only one more group left, yeah?” Nejire piped up questioningly.  
  


Tenya glanced around, doing a quick head count. “I suppose so, although that depends . . .”  
  


As if to answer Nejire’s question, the door opened as Tenya trailed off, being led by a bedraggled Tetsutetsu walking side-by-side with a rather put-off Neito. As the next two walked in, it was easy to tell why. First came Inasa, with a rather guilty expression.  
  


And then there was a rather apathetic Shoto, with a swollen nose streaming blood all over his usually handsome face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katsuki's parents being majorly hypocritical assholes? Always. (Sorry baku, but d r a m a)
> 
> I don't mind Inasa all that much, but his grudge against Todoroki was a little extreme ngl. In this fic, I took that prejudice and made it x10 pretty much :)
> 
> Poor Uraraka, I had to leave it off on a cliff-hanger so she's still stuck in a kitchen cabinet
> 
> Here's the list of the 20 Selected (although it may just go down to 19 with all that just happened 👀) plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Yoarashi Inasa– Five  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> Next chapter is the aftermath of Shoto's broken nose (poor bby :( sry sho, it had to be done), plus a one-on-one date, and probably smth else that I haven't yet decided. It'll be out on Tuesday, so see y'all then!


	27. Sometimes All it Takes is a Little Encouragement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance.
> 
> Enjoy

Izuku gave a pained gasp at the state of Shoto’s face, rushing to the boy’s side in unbridled worry.  
  


“Shoto?!” He cried, placing a gentle hand on Shoto’s left cheek as he examined the clearly broken nose. “What happened?!”  
  


The room was filled with a rather awkward silence as everyone waited up for an explanation. The four who’d just entered looked anxiously between each other, silently asking one another to explain.  
  


Neito spoke up with a deliberate sigh. “Inasa hit him,” he explained with a shrug. “They got in a pretty heated fight and . . . well, here we are.”  
  


Crickets.  
  


“I’ll go pack up my things, then,” Inasa muttered dejectedly, making a move to leave the room. Katsuki did nothing to try and stop him, only glared at his back as he left.  
  


Camie fidgeted nervously. “Hey, I’m gonna go help him clean out.” She left with a half-hearted wave after her friend.  
  


Silence permeated the tense air in the room, as everyone slowly began shuffling out.  
  


“Where’s Ochaco?” Izuku asked in a small voice.  
  


“Oh!” Nejire shouted, remembering how she’d left the brunette alone to hide. “She’s still in the kitchens! I’ll go get her.”  
  


The blue-haired girl set off in that direction, with Mirio and Tamaki hesitantly following after.  
  


“Was she really in the kitchens the whole time?” Mirio was the first to speak up.  
  


Nejire huffed a small laugh, giving her friend a cheeky smile. “Yup! The cabinet right next to mine!”  
  


The blonde snorted derisively, shaking his head with a smile adorning his face. “I can’t believe I fell for that,” he muttered.  
  


When they’d finally arrived in the kitchens, Nejire made a beeline for where Ochaco was still clearly hidden. She swung open the door with vigor, beaming down at the tired-looking brunette.  
  


“Congrats, you won!” She chirped, helping a grinning Ochaco out of her hiding space. “Although Todoroki got punched by Inasa, poor thing. He’s probably headed to the infirmary already. Crazy, yeah?”  
  


Ochaco gaped. “ _Really_?” She gasped. “I mean, I figured they had some bad blood, but Todoroki’s so chill! Wonder what happened.”  
  


“Monoma and Tetsutetsu were there when it happened,” Mirio chipped in. “They’ll probably be interrogated about the whole thing later.”  
  


She nodded, processing the information. “Guessing this means Inasa’s leaving?”  
  


A nod was all she got in response as they continued making their way back towards the parlor. No doubt it would be nearly empty, what with everything that just happened, but being alone didn’t sound all that appealing to Ochaco right now.

* * *

“Well, it’s definitely broken, dearie.”  
  


Izuku sat forlornly at Shoto’s bedside, seemingly taking the news a lot harder than even Shoto himself. Unshed tears sprung up stubbornly in his emerald eyes, nearly slipping out despite his best efforts. Shoto seemed far too unaffected by the result, and especially the undeniable pain the injury must be causing him.  
  


“Thank you for your time,” he said in a monotone voice, standing up to leave at Izuku’s side. “Are you alright, Izuku?”  
  


“Am _I_ alright?” Izuku replied incredulously. “You’re the one with the broken nose! I’m so sorry, that happened.”  
  


Shoto simply waved his worries away. “Don’t fret, I’m fine. I’ve suffered worse, trust me.” Izuku bit his lip anxiously. “I’ll put some ice on it when I get back to my room, alright?”  
  


He nodded, albeit reluctantly. “I’m coming with you, though,” he said stubbornly. “Just to make sure you take proper care of it.”  
  


The heterochromatic boy huffed a small laugh, but agreed nonetheless. They made their way to Shoto’s room, with Izuku hovering slightly closer to Shoto’s side than the situation called for. He didn’t mind, of course—having someone worrying over his safety was a new feeling, and he discovered it actually felt kind of nice to know someone cared.  
  


They walked at a rather glacial pace, but eventually found themselves outside Shoto’s room, which Izuku opened the door to graciously for Shoto. After a quick glance in the mirror, he noticed his nose was nearly twice the size as usual, which was rather off-putting to see. His nose was easily the most noticeable thing on his face, but perhaps it would ruin his chances even more of winning the Selection?  
  


It gave him hope, at the very least.  
  


“Want to watch a movie, maybe?” Izuku called from the other room. Shoto glanced inside, seeing the smaller boy already holding an ice pack for Shoto and questioningly holding up a remote.  
  


“Sure,” Shoto replied simply, moving to take a seat on his bed, patting the space directly next to him for Izuku to sit. And sit he did, albeit with a margin more of space between them than Shoto had been anticipating. While Izuku was known to hover, it was clear he was a little uncomfortable in the unfamiliar setting.  
  


“Here,” Izuku muttered softly, handing over the ice pack and helping position it comfortably over Shoto’s nose. “What movie do you want to watch?”  
  


Movies weren’t really Shoto’s thing, if he were being honest. More like, he’d never been given the opportunity to watch them. The only thing related to movies his father permitted him to watch in his spare time were documentaries—so, in conclusion, Shoto was unsure if he’d ever actually sat through an entire movie before. Doing so for the first time accompanied by none other than Izuku actually sounded incredibly appealing. Except, he had no preferences—his best bet was to wing it.  
  


“Whatever you like, Izuku,” he offered, although the boy in question looked ready to decline. “Really, I’d rather you choose.”  
  


“Okay,” Izuku muttered reluctantly, leaning slightly towards Shoto out of habit—his left side always happened to be unnaturally warm. “Does a comedy sound fine?”  
  


Shoto shrugged—something lighthearted might suit to remedy the former situation. “That’ll do,” he agreed.  
  


Izuku chose a movie, and settled down on Shoto’s left side. A mere twenty minutes in, and the greenette was already completely engrossed in the rather cheesy plot. He laughed at all the dumb jokes, and would often comment on the actions of the characters in the movie. Shoto, on the other hand, found most of the lighthearted humor going right over his head.  
  


He stared blankly at the screen, with Izuku giggling adorably at his side. Eventually, he seemed to notice the lack of laughter coming from his right, “Sorry, Shoto, do you wanna watch something else?”  
  


“No, no, you seem to be enjoying it,” he said, shaking his head firmly. What he didn’t say was that the mere sound of Izuku’s laughter was league’s better than the movie itself.  
  


“But the point is for _you_ to be enjoying it,” Izuku said stubbornly, pausing the movie to pout at Shoto. Clearly, puppy dog eyes were _very_ effective on him.  
  


“Fine, fine, we can watch something else if you want,” Shoto relented. He discovered that it was absolutely worth it by the way Izuku’s eyes lit up. “Perhaps an action movie?”  
  


Izuku nodded his head fiercely. “Yeah! I know just the one,” he exclaimed, scrolling fiercely through the multitude of available movies to decide on one in particular. “I’ve never seen it—but I’ve heard great things.”  
  


“If you want to watch it, then so do I,” Shoto said agreeably, and Izuku went on to press play.  
  


The greenette curled into his side, watching the ongoing movie with rapt attention, although Shoto found himself starting to doze off. The movie was good—no doubt about it. But it was well past midnight by now, and he was slightly exhausted, especially after the incident earlier. Healing takes a lot of energy.  
  


Izuku felt something slump over onto his shoulder, realizing a moment later that it was Shoto, fast asleep. He smiled slightly to himself, pausing the movie so as not to wake his sleeping friend, before moving Shoto’s head into a more comfortable position on his pillow. Izuku draped a blanket over him, before turning the TV off.  
  


He took one last glance at Shoto—to make sure he was still asleep—and quietly slipped out the door, shutting it with a soft click behind his back.

* * *

After the unfortunate train of events that had transpired the day prior, Kyoka was relentlessly distracting herself with music. The impromptu band had been practicing on the sly for a while now—ever since the idea was suggested, in fact. Considering Denki had little to no experience playing guitar, and Momo was used to classical piano rather than the keyboard, they sounded pretty damn good.  
  


The only thing Kyoka wasn’t entirely sure about was her singing. The group had already praised her vocals countless times, but she still found herself doubting her abilities. Yes, she’s been singing her whole life. Yes, music is not only her passion but her _career_. She makes a living off of singing, but that doesn’t mean she’s entirely ready to sing in front of this large a group of people. Especially when she knows all of them.  
  


Her doubts had been slowly festering with time, crawling up her throat and leaving a lasting feeling of unrest permeating her body. Comfort came, surprisingly, in the form of Denki Kaminari.  
  


“That was a really good run-through, Kyoka,” he said cheerily, taking a seat beside her and carefully stretching out his fingers. “The song’s really coming along, huh?”  
  


She shrugged noncommittally. “I have to admit, though, your guitar playing has actually come pretty far. You didn’t have any experience before, right?”  
  


“Nope!” Denki replied cheerfully. “I’ve just been interested in learning in the past. But my progress is all thanks to you! You’re a hella good teacher, y’know?”  
  


A flush found itself creeping up Kyoka’s cheeks at the praise. “Anyone could do it,” she muttered, glancing over at where Katsuki was helping Fumikage carefully position his fingers over the strings. “I’m nothing special.”  
  


“This band wouldn’t be here without you, so don’t sell yourself short.” He replied firmly, leaving no room for argument. “Plus, you’re the lead. We couldn’t be doing all of _this_ —” he made a wide gesture around the room, “If you weren’t taking charge.”  
  


“Prince Bakugou seems to be a fine teacher,” Kyoka protested weakly. While Katsuki was rather brash, to say the least, he always managed to get the point across. “And anyone else could be the lead singer. Kirishima sings, doesn’t he?”  
  


Denki snorted derisively. “Eijiro’s my bro, but—but _no_ ,” he responded, clearly trying to hold back laughter. “To put it bluntly, he can’t sing for shit.”  
  


Kyoka responded with a blank look. “I’m telling him you said that.”  
  


Denki squawked in protest, eyes widening. “Don’t you _dare_ ,” he gasped, giving her a mock glare.  
  


A smirk found its way onto her lips. “Now I’m tempted to ask him to be the lead vocals, just to prove you wrong,” she said, a teasing lilt to her tone.  
  


“You’ll really just be proving me right,” he grumbled. “Besides, the song isn’t the same without you. I don’t know a single soul who can sing better than you, Kyoka. And I’ve never met someone who’s able to teach me a concept I didn’t already have experience on so thoroughly and in so little time. You have a gift for this, don’t doubt it.”  
  


“DUNCE FACE!” Katsuki screeched, cutting off whatever else Denki might’ve considered saying. “STOP FUCKING DAWDLING AND GET YOUR ASS BACK OVER HERE!”  
  


Denki smiled sheepishly at Kyoka, giving her a gentle pat on the back. “Well, there’s my cue to leave. Keep what I said in mind, yeah?”  
  


He had already walked away, but Kyoka smiled softly too, muttering absentmindedly, “Yeah, I will.”

* * *

“A bathing suit?”  
  


Tetsutetsu knew at this point he was honestly just repeating whatever his maids were saying, but they—being the saints they are—didn’t really seem to mind his confusion all that much.  
  


“Mhm,” Keina said, digging fruitlessly through his closet. “I suppose you’ll be going swimming, then.”  
  


“Do you even _have_ a bathing suit?” Nishi fretted, pacing back and forth. “I may have to sew one up for you right now—I’ll be back! Come get me if you find anything!”  
  


Hikaru shot her a brief thumbs up, not turning away from the current task at hand. They were all rushing, having only just found out his presence was being requested in a mere _hour_ by Katsuki. Tetsutetsu felt wholly unprepared, and it showed by the blank stare he was giving his two remaining maids as they flit about the room.  
  


“Hey! I think I found some—oh, wait, never mind it’s just underwear . . .”  
  


“I’ve drawn a bath, Sir Tetsutetsu! Go ahead and get in so you’ll be ready in time.”  
  


“This is hopeless! There’s nothing in here that even remotely resembles a _bathing suit_.”  
  


“Why didn’t we prepare for the possibility of a swimming related date?”  
  


“I don’t _know_. It never really crossed my mind since I’ve never visited the swimming pool.”  
  


“Me either! Perhaps if Nishi isn’t able to finish in time, he can borrow a suit from Prince Bakugou?”

Keina scoffed. “His Highness’ waist is much too small for that—Sir Tetsutetsu would never fit.”  
  


What he thought was an insult only barely registered in Tetsutetsu’s mind. “Hey! Are you calling me fat?!”  
  


A fit of giggles is all he received in response.  
  


Keina appeared from out the closet, appearing disheveled and let-down. “Nothing. Maybe we should go help Nishi sew?”  
  


Hikaru, still in the bathroom, called out to her fellow maid. “You do that, Kei, I’ll stick here. Someone needs to help Sir Tetsutetsu, and I can’t sew to save my life regardless. I’ll handle things here.” She made a shooing gesture with her hands, and Keina left without much argument.  
  


A sigh emanated from the bathroom, before Hikaru emerged, a tight smile adorning her features.  
  


“Whatcha standing around for? Get in the damn bath already,” she practically ordered, and Tetsutetsu quickly obeyed.  
  


He stripped down and climbed in the large tub, scrubbing at his skin until it was pink. He completed a thorough wash of his silver hair, completing his ordinary bath in record time.  
  


“Would you look at that? You _do_ have a sense of urgency,” Hikaru said dryly after seeing him leave the bathroom, a towel wrapped firmly around his waist.  
  


“Yeah, yeah, whatever, ‘Karu. How long ‘til I have to leave?”  
  


She glanced at a well-worn watch on her wrist, grimacing ever so slightly. “Twenty minutes,” she admitted, scowling. “I hope those two hurry, we don’t really have much time left.”  
  


Tetsutetsu shrugged. “Knowing them, they’ve probably recruited half the maids in there to help.”  
  


That got a small chuckle out of Hikaru. “Yeah, probably.”  
  


Waiting around in nothing but a towel was a little disconcerting, but at least his lower half was mostly hidden by the vanity as Hikaru hurriedly blew dry his hair.  
  


“What’s the point of blowing it dry if I’m just gonna get it wet again?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows.  
  


Hikaru tugged on a particularly stubborn clump of hair, running her fingers through it messily. Tetsutetsu winced. “You still wanna look presentable, don’t you? God, your hair’s a mess.”

“My hair’s amazing, thank you very much,” he retorted.  
  


“I beg to differ,” she said, pulling roughly on another clump. “How do you even manage to get hair this dry?”  
  


Tetsutetsu nervously dug his fingers through his silver hair, feeling the unnaturally brittle texture. “Well, where I come from it was always scorching. My family’s hair is all the same.”  
  


She bit her lip, continuously messing around with his silver locks. “Maybe try to avoid getting your hair wet, if you can. Chlorine really isn’t gonna help.”  
  


“We’re back!” A familiar voice called out, belonging to none other than Nishi. “And we brought a bathing suit.”  
  


Hikaru was gone in an instant, blow dryer long forgotten. Tetsutetsu had the decency enough to turn it off for her, before following her out.  
  


The bathing suit was a plain gray with red adorning the sides—basic, but well done considering the amount of time they had to make it.  
  


“Looks great, guys! So manly!” Tetsutetsu shouted, shooting the two smiling girls a thumbs up.  
  


He changed quickly—luckily there wasn’t much to put on—and made a beeline for the swimming pool, after getting explicit directions from Keina.  
  


“Good, you’re on time,” Katsuki said when Tetsutetsu entered, already waist-high in the cool, blue water. “Get in, dumbass, we’re racing.”  
  


Tetsutetsu grinned competitively. “Don’t be too mad when you lose, dude.”  
  


Katsuki scoffed. “You say that as if you have any hope of beating me.”  
  


And really, he didn’t, because Katsuki was built like a well-oiled machine. He kicked off the wall with incredible force, landing him nearly halfway across the length of the pool. He crossed the remaining distance in a matter of seconds, leaving Tetsutetsu in the dust.  
  


“Jeez,” Tetsutetsu wheezed when he finally caught up. “How are you not out of breath, man?”  
  


“Practice,” Katsuki said, leaning casually against the wall. “Don’t have as much free time now, though.”  
  


Tetsutetsu frowned, but Katsuki was already lining up for another race.  
  


“I’m expecting a real challenge this time. Let’s do a 100 freestyle.”

Tetsutetsu gaped. “100 _laps_?!”  
  


“No, dumbass!” Katsuki snapped, “100 _metres_.” He pointed to the other end of the pool. “There and back, twice. Ready?”  
  


Tetsutetsu nodded, and Katsuki counted down from three, taking off at a breakneck speed. Tetsutetsu was fighting to keep up, but Katsuki was clearly leagues ahead of his level. The blonde flipped underwater, kicking off the wall with the same fervor as always.  
  


By the time Katsuki had finished overall, Tetsutetsu was only finished his first lap. “ _How_?” He wheezed, leaning over to catch his breath.  
  


Katsuki slapped his back roughly, earning a yelp in return. “Straighten your spine, dumb fuck. When you hunch over, it cuts off your airways. You’re making it fucking _harder_ to breathe.”  
  


Tetsutetsu reluctantly straightened out his back, but he noticed that the air was filling his lungs a lot easier. “Thanks man!” He shot him a toothy grin.  
  


“Tch. Whatever. Another 100, got it?”  
  


His tone of voice left no room for argument, so Tetsutetsu just nodded and got in position.  
  


If he was being honest, he didn’t mind too much. The sudden influx of abnormally good food and the lack of free time to be spent training and exercising meant Tetsutetsu’s physique ultimately suffered, and swimming was as good a way as any to train the body.  
  


Katsuki was hardly even out of breath, whereas Tetsutetsu was gasping desperately for air after each race. “Sheesh, I’m really out of shape, huh?”  
  


“Swimming isn’t just about that, dumbass. It’s about your breathing too—which you’re fucking doing _wrong_.”  
  


“How am I genuinely _breathing_ wrong? I’m starting to think nothing satisfies you, man.” Tetsutetsu said, still catching his breath.  
  


“Yeah, well you’d be right in that assumption. When you stop to take a breath, it’s so _obvious_. You’re supposed to lift your head up to the side while swimming to take a quick breath, not stop your damn movement’s altogether and flail like a fucking fish.”  
  


“What do you mean?” Tetsutetsu asked, giving Katsuki a quizzical look.  
  


The blonde sighed, moving closer towards Tetsutetsu. “Lay on your fucking stomach.” Tetsutetsu obeyed. “I’ll guide your head where it’s _supposed_ to go while you’re swimming, in order to breathe.”  
  


He tugged on Tetsutetsu’s chin, bringing his head up and out of the water, albeit only slightly. Tetsutetsu took in a deep lungful of air before Katsuki was submerging his face again and emerging it on the other side.  
  


“See? You turn it like that, _while_ you’re swimming. Another thing, stop turning around like a fucking pansy when you get too close to the wall. When you see it coming, breathe rapidly out your nose and flip over, and kick off. Saves time.”  
  


Tetsutetsu nodded, trying to collect all the information together in his mind, before putting it to use in the next race. He felt a competitive spirit settling in his chest, pushing him to swim faster, push harder.  
  


As time wore on, he found himself keeping up a lot better with Katsuki, despite having been so far behind at the start.  
  


“This was loads of fun, man,” Tetsutetsu said, grinning earnestly. “We should come back another time—I’ll definitely kick your ass then, man.”  
  


Katsuki grinned wickedly. “You’re on.”

* * *

Tensei walked hurriedly down the empty streets, shivering from the cool night air. He hadn’t intended to stay out so late, but Christmas shopping took time. He wanted nothing but the best present for his baby brother, who he missed sorely. But, surely, Tenya was having a wonderful time at the palace.  
  


He passed through an empty alleyway, rubbing his hands up and down his arms to produce what little warmth he could. Tensei’s haggard breathing was unfortunately visible due to the freezing air, and loud, masking most other sounds filling the mostly empty streets.  
  


So, naturally, he missed the quiet footsteps approaching from behind.  
  


By the time he noticed the approaching figure, it was already too late. He was swept clean off his feet, head hitting the ground _hard_. A dizzy spell overcame him, vision blurring at the edges. A lone figure loomed above him, holding something long and silver in their palm.  
  


Before he had time to realize exactly _who_ it was who had attacked Tensei, Stain brought the gleaming katana down. A sickening scream filled the frost-bitten air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing the ending of this made me really sad :( (I love Tensei, hes a great brother)
> 
> My sister is a swimmer, I am not. Don't take my word for any of the 'swimming advice' I included in the chapter (also feel free to correct me if the information is lacking or untrue).
> 
> Whenever I swim, the reason I struggle so much isn't because of my muscles burning, it's because I don't know the proper way to breathe while swimming (at least that's what my sister told me? idk she's a swimmer and im not so I'll just take her word for it)
> 
> Inasa is gone, so here's the list of the 19 remaining Selected plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Iida Tenya – Two  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> Next chapter is gonna be centered around their Christmas celebrations, which I'll have out on Friday!


	28. Merry Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to honestly be twice the length it is, but I'm gonna be out tomorrow (or today ig, since it's technically Friday morning) pretty much all day, and I was busy all day Thursday too.
> 
> But yeah, it's like three in the morning, but technically still Friday ;P
> 
> Despite it's length, hope you enjoy it anyways ;,)

Warm, golden light filtered in through the silky sheen of the curtains, casting Tenya’s room with a heavenly glow. He woke up bright and early, as usual, allowing the natural sunlight to help awaken his senses.  
  


A knock at the door woke him up fully. Tenya shot out of bed, pulling on a robe to cover his mostly undressed form and opened the door, barely managing to contain a yawn as he did so.  
  


“How may I help you?” He asked in an unusually tired voice.  
  


The woman in question gave him a sympathetic look, holding out an envelope for him to look at. “This is for you, sir.”  
  


She bowed slightly before turning on her heel and disappearing down the corridor, leaving a confused and slightly bewildered Tenya in her wake.  
  


He took a cautious seat on the edge of his bed, staring dumfounded at the letter in his hands, clearly addressed from his parents. Hesitantly, he tore it open, reading the contents.  
  


Tears streaked down his face as he took in the contents of the grim letter, dread pooling uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

“Merry Christmas, Tenya!”  
  


Ochaco was in a chipper mood, which wasn’t all too different from usual. The Christmas spirit had taken full swing, with the palace being decorated entirely overnight with the spiffiest decorations around. Ochaco had decidedly dressed up in red and green, considering the occasion, and Tenya noticed the common theme circling the room as well.  
  


Tenya clearly missed the memo, considering he was dressed head to toe in black.  
  


“Merry Christmas, Ochaco,” he replied, grinning tersely.  
  


Sheepishly, Izuku handed something to him, smiling softly. “It’s not much, but it’s the best I could do considering the circumstances.” He gestured vaguely around him at the grand palace. “I pulled some strings and . . . well, um, do you like it?”  
  


Tenya stared down in shock at the limited edition copy of “ _Romeo and Juliet_ ”—a very old classic, one of which was _very_ hard to get one’s hands on. Especially considering there were only a couple copies left in the _world_.  
  


“I remember you mentioning Shakespeare once—you admire him, right? So, I thought, you’d probably appreciate this—are you okay?”  
  


Tenya nodded tersely, wiping away the fresh tears brimming in his blue eyes. “I’m—I’m fine, Izuku. Thank you _so_ much. I—I love it.”  
  


Izuku positively beamed, engulfing Tenya in a warm hug.  
  


What Tenya didn’t mention, was that Tensei was the one who told him about William Shakespeare, who’d built up that fond admiration in Tenya for a writer he’d never even read the stories of. Tensei always had that sort of influence on him—sweet, amazing, _kind_ Tensei, who was always there for him.  
  


And now he’d never be there for him again.  
  


His brother’s death had hit Tenya especially hard, considering how close they were. Tensei meant everything to him— _everything_. Being around his friends made bearing the burden of losing him slightly easier, but Tenya knew what had to be done. He needed to be with his family during these trying times.  
  


Tonight would be his last night in the palace.

* * *

“I’m expecting to be _given_ gifts, not handing them out.”  
  


Akira gave her best friend a tired look as she sighed, sitting down and petting the sleeping Pomeranian at the foot of the bed.  
  


“Where are you expecting them to get the gifts from?” She deadpanned.  
  


Katsuki shrugged, leaning further back into his fluffy comforter. “Hell if I know. Just goes to show how much they _care_ if they do get me something.”  
  


“Or how much of a kiss-up they are,” she retorted. “You guys are performing your song today, right?”  
  


He nodded sagely, stretching out an arm to run his fingers through Blasty’s silky blonde fur. “Yeah. We sound fucking good, too, of course. You’re gonna be there?”  
  


Akira grinned. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She stood up, dusting imaginary dirt of her skirt. “You really should be getting up, Katsuki. Dinner’ll be soon, you know. Also—” She gave him a sympathetic look, “Your parents want to speak with you.”  
  


Katsuki didn’t even bother suppressing his groan.

* * *

“I brought the mistletoe, guys!” Mina calls out cheerfully, hefting a crate full of what Hanta can only assume is mistletoe carefully into the parlor.  
  


“Um, Mina,” he calls out warily, grabbing the girl’s attention. “I don’t think we can actually use that stuff.”  
  


She huffs, rolling her eyes. “C’mon, Hanta, where’s your sense of fun? Ever heard of a friendly kiss on the cheek?” She sets the crate down, opening it up to display the never-ending mass of green. “Some help putting these around, please?”  
  


Denki and Eijiro are the first up to help, grabbing handfuls each to tape around the room. Hanta sighs, decidedly joining in, and before long he finds the entire room being surrounded with laughing Selected hanging up mistletoe in every nook and cranny.  
  


“This seems pointless, doesn’t it?” Shiozaki says suddenly, sufficiently scaring Hanta.  
  


“Well, it’s tradition.” He counters weakly, hanging up another bout of mistletoe. “We should put some in other wings of the palace too—it’ll be funner that way.”  
  


“’Funner’ isn’t a word, you know.” She grabs a ladder anyways, holding the door open graciously for him. Hanta gives her a cheeky smile, heading out and waiting for her to follow after. “I celebrate Christmas every year with my extended family, but I have to say this is the first I’ve heard of mistletoe.”  
  


Hanta furrowed his eyebrows. “You don’t know what it is?” He asked incredulously.  
  


She waved his question away. “Not until a few minutes ago. Kendo explained the concept to me. It seems a little . . . indecent, don’t you think?”  
  


“Oh, well, it’s all just for fun. No harm done, yeah?” She remains silent. “What’s Christmas like at your place, Shiozaki?”  
  


Shiozaki ponders the question. “We do a lot. My favorite tradition is when grandfather reads passages of Christmas’ past. Before castes, and Kingdoms—before Shizuoka even existed. It’s interesting, to say the least.”  
  


Hanta whistles lowly. “Mind sharing a few stories?”  
  


Her eyes light up as she retells tale after tale, sharing all her favorite and most memorable stories her grandfather shared with her and her siblings, and cousins. Hanta listened to her as she spoke, fascinated by the clear differences between now and then. Everyone seemed more _together_ back then, than they were now. Now, everyone was separated by caste, and it caused a rift to form between different level members of society.  
  


“That sounds amazing,” Hanta breathed earnestly. “You know, we should put up a tree in the parlor! I know it’s a little last minute, but wouldn’t it be a cute idea? To make things more festive, like in the past?”  
  


Shiozaki grinned, wider than Hanta was used to seeing. “And we can decorate it with baubles and tinsel—I love that idea, Sero.”  
  


He grabbed her hand in his excitement, pulling her along behind him back to the parlor. Their previous mistletoe-hanging mission remained temporarily forgotten.  
  


“Well,” Hanta said, tone barely containing his unbridled excitement, “let’s go suggest it to the others!”

* * *

“Merry Christmas, babe,” Yamada sang, holding up a carefully wrapped gift box towards his husband. “I got this just for you!”  
  


Shouta sighed, unwrapping the gift and peering inside at the contents. “Really?" He deadpanned. "You got me _your_ merch?”  
  


Yamada grinned impishly from ear to ear. “You betcha, Sho.”  
  


A long suffering sigh made its way past Shouta’s lips. He’d learnt to expect this by now—Yamada got him cheesy merch _every_ year, mostly as a joke. Shouta would do his best to buy his husband old cassette tapes and music records from hundreds of years ago to listen to—Yamada enjoyed vintage music more than any other kind, by far.  
  


“How’s the training with Jiro going, ‘Zashi?” Shouta asked, tossing the t-shirt to the side mindlessly.  
  


Yamada visibly brightened. “Fantastic! She’s a natural, really. If she doesn’t win, I’m seriously considering asking her to take over the mantle when I retire.” He explained enthusiastically, a hint of pride edging into his tone.  
  


Shouta hummed his acknowledgement, thinking of his own two students as well. “Lessons with Hitoshi and Kaminari are going good, too. They each have a unique perspective on the nation’s issues because of their different upbringings—they’d make fine advisors.”  
  


“Is that what they want, though?” Yamada questioned, lifting a brow.  
  


“I don’t know,” Shouta answered honestly. “I’m gonna propose the idea to them soon—maybe New Years?”  
  


Yamada nodded. “Definitely tell them soon,” he advised. “No doubt at least one of them has caught on by now if they’re as sharp as you say they are.”  
  


His husband huffed a small laugh, lips donning into a small smile. “Yeah, yeah, probably. I wouldn’t be surprised if both of them know by now—they’re quick, I’ll give them that.” He paused. “Just don’t tell them I said that.”  
  


Yamada grinned, hugging Shouta tightly and pressing a sloppy kiss against his cheek. “Aww, Sho! Are you growing soft?”  
  


“Absolutely not,” Shouta huffed in denial, hiding his small grin in the folds of his scarf.

* * *

Cheeks hot with embarrassment, Izuku leaned over to brush a soft kiss against Ochaco’s cheek, the pair standing wearily under the mistletoe after its discovery.  
  


“Happy?” He grumbled out to the awaiting audience, who in turn cheered in response.  
  


The door slammed open, drawing everyone’s attention instead to the entering pair. “Guys!” Hanta bellowed breathily. “We had an idea!”  
  


“Oh, oh, what is it?!” Nejire calls back in an excited tone.  
  


Shiozaki replies next, in a much calmer voice than the former two, “What if we put up a Christmas tree?”  
  


Izuku tilts his head in contemplation, not noticing the way Ochaco subtly shifts away from him, and by Mina’s side instead. Christmas trees were a long forgotten tradition—mostly because most castes couldn’t afford them any longer.  
  


“Where would we even get one on such short notice? Would Prince Bakugou be okay with the idea, as well? Of course, it’d be fun, especially to decorate and put presents under! But—well, we’d have to make a special trip outside the palace to get a tree. Are we planning to get a real tree or purchase a fake one from in town? A fake one is probably better for the environment—deforestation remains to be such an important issue and—”  
  


“Izuku,” Shoto cut him off gently. “You’re rambling again.  
  


Izuku felt heat flood his cheeks. “Sorry!” He squeaked out, hiding his red face behind his hands.  
  


“We should talk to Prince Bakugou about the idea—but I’m down!” Ochaco called out cheerfully. “We can go into town and buy a tree there.”  
  


Suddenly, the thought of the dish waiting in the kitchens to be eaten flooded Izuku’s mind, reminding him he had yet to give Katsuki his gift.  
  


“Oh!” He called out, drawing everyone’s attention. “You know, I have something I need to give to Prince Bakugou anyways—I can go ask him?”  
  


Mina nodded, collecting another box of mistletoe, and handing them around for people to grab. “Sounds good, man. I’ll try and find some decorations for the tree, in case he says yes.”  
  


“In the meantime,” Denki piped up, looking disdainfully at the parlor. “Let’s get decorating this room in general—it’s lacking on the Christmas aspect, my dudes. Kyoka, think you can hook us up with some good music for the occasion?”  
  


The girl in question mindlessly twirled a strand of violet hair, biting her lip. “Yeah, I think so. Shouldn’t be too hard.”  
  


The blonde boy nodded, turning to face everyone else. “Try and find anything decorative and in-spirit you can, and bring it in here. Oh! Can a group head to the kitchens and make some hot cocoa?”  
  


Neito nodded, gathering Shiozaki, Tetsutetsu, and Kendo by his side. “We can handle that, I’m sure.”  
  


Eijiro cheered, pumping one fist in the air. “Hell yeah! Let’s get this Christmas party swinging!”

* * *

Speaking with his parents had gone about as well as Katsuki had expected—they’d harassed him endlessly over dumb shit, although they seemed at least pleased by the most recent elimination. Especially, unfortunately, because Inasa had ranked fairly low in terms of public popularity.  
  


He was sulking—on _Christmas_ , no less—and Katsuki knew it, too. The maids gave him a wide berth as he stalked menacingly through the hallways, making a beeline for his bedroom. Perhaps curling up in bed and sleeping away his problems would suffice. Unfortunately, today was Christmas—no way he’d be able to get away with that today.  
  


“Prince Bakugou!” A chipped voice called from behind.  
  


Katsuki growled, turning around to meet an undeterred Izuku, smiling like the sun.  
  


“What do you want?”  
  


“Oh!” Izuku said, smiling sheepishly. “Well, we’re kinda planning a little Christmas party in the Selected’s parlor. We wanted to go out to town and get a Christmas tree, but needed your approval first.”  
  


Katsuki waved him off dismissively. “Sure. Whatever.”  
  


Izuku hummed his acknowledgement, hesitantly following after Katsuki as he attempted to saunter off. “Wanna come along? You seem like you could use a little company.”  
  


He really considered saying no—Katsuki really wasn’t in the best mood. But, perhaps, being around the others could help . . .  
  


“Tch. I’ll come, damn nerd, but we’re leaving now. C’mon,” he stalked off, listening to Izuku’s hurried footsteps as he rushed to keep up.  
  


“Wh— _now_?!” He cried, following after Katsuki at a quick pace. “But—shouldn’t we tell the others? Get a group to go with us?”  
  


Katsuki looked at him disdainfully. “We can handle it ourselves, I’m sure.” He said gruffly, redirecting his attention, eyes focused squarely ahead. “What? Don’t wanna be alone with me?”  
  


Izuku yelped in both surprise and disagreement. “No! It’s not that at all! More . . . more of the opposite, really.”  
  


The ash blonde scoffed, pace not slowing for even a moment. “For some damn reason, I don’t fucking hate your company. I made you an offer, take it or leave it. Are you coming?”  
  


“Yup!” Izuku chirped, footsteps hardly faltering. “Let’s go find us a tree!”

* * *

“Snacks?”  
  


“Check!”  
  


“Music?”  
  


“Check!”  
  


“Decorations are in order?”  
  


“Mhm! Check!”  
  


“Tree?”  
  


A pause. “. . . Nope.”  
  


Denki sighed, rubbing his hands against his temple tiredly. It’d been nearly an hour by now and Izuku had still yet to return. All the decorations had been properly set up, and music was playing softly in the background as everyone mindlessly mingled.  
  


The only thing missing was the centerpiece—the Christmas tree.  
  


Ornaments and tinsel had been set to the side, waiting to be hung. Most had postponed opening gifts so they could set them under the tree and open later that night.  
  


A tray full of hot cocoa, eggnog, and sugar cookies was set to the side, left open for the Selected to eat and drink at their leisure. Despite how last minute the whole thing was, it was starting to come together—if only Izuku would return.  
  


“Heard anything yet, Kami?” Ochaco asked, approaching nervously from the side.  
  


Denki sighed, trying to suppress a frown. “Nope, nothing. He’ll be back—and we definitely won’t open presents without him!”  
  


She nodded hesitantly, offering the blonde a small smile before returning to the couch, tucking herself under a fluffy red blanket which she was currently sharing with Kyoka.  
  


A knock on the door resounded through the parlor, pausing everyone’s commotion to stop and stare.  
  


“I got it!” Mina yelled, dashing over to swing the door open graciously. “Who’s th—”  
  


At the sound of her audible gasp, a crowd formed around the doorway, watching as Izuku and Katsuki carried in the tree, hefting it over their shoulders to lift. They set it down in the center of the room, and with help from Eijiro, set up the presents under the tree.  
  


“I believe,” Hanta yelled, holding out a box of ornaments, “It’s time to decorate the tree!”

* * *

Katsuki didn’t get the chance to go into town often, although he was noticing he had more opportunities than usual after the Selection had begun. Despite his own lack of experience in the romance department, he had to admit the scenery outside left a fairly romantic impression.  
  


It was almost cliché the way he felt the urge to offer Izuku his jacket after watching the small boy shiver fruitlessly for ten minutes straight—and so he did.  
  


“Thank you, Prince Bakugou, but I don’t want you to be cold—”  
  


Katsuki shrugged off the jacket, draping it over Izuku’s shoulders. “I don’t care, nerd, just take the damn jacket. Rather me be cold than you.”  
  


Izuku smiled, and Katsuki had to fight off the urge to mimic the expression. It was hard to comprehend the sheer fondness shining in Izuku’s eyes—how someone could look at a person like _Katsuki_ like that was beyond him.  
  


“Mind if we take a detour?” Katsuki found himself asking before he even had time to process his words.  
  


The greenette nodded quickly, not hesitating in the slightest. Katsuki led him to a secluded clearing, covered entirely in a thick layering of snow. The frost-bitten air whipped harshly at Katsuki’s cheek, leaving a stinging sensation burning against his red skin.  
  


“Whenever it snowed in the past,” Katsuki said softly—much softer than was usual. “This place was always the most beautiful. I—I don’t know why, but I wanted to share it with you, I guess.”  
  


He could feel his face heating up, although Izuku’s face was as red as Katsuki’s felt.  
  


“I’m glad you can trust me with something like that, Kacchan,” Izuku whispered, eyes widening minutely. “I—I mean—”  
  


“Kacchan?” Katsuki asked, eyebrows furrowed. “What—why Kacchan?”  
  


“It—I’ve been referring to you as that in my head for a while now, but uh,” Izuku paused, gulping silently. “It means ‘ _powerful_ ’. I—I say it out of respect, of course.”  
  


The greenette muttered something else unintelligibly under his breath, which Katsuki was unable to catch.  
  


“Tch. Repeat that, damn nerd.” Katsuki demanded.  
  


Izuku chuckled nervously. “It also means ‘ _explosive_ ’ and ‘ _loud_ ’.”  
  


Despite himself, Katsuki couldn’t help but bust out laughing. Yeah, _that_ sounded a hell of a lot more like him.  
  


“Gotta admit, Deku,” Katsuki said, wheezing in between laughter, “You couldn’t have picked a more accurate nickname. Kinda like it—but you can _only_ call me that in private, got it?”  
  


Izuku nodded hurriedly, smiling brightly. “Okay, Kacchan!”

* * *

Izuku really isn’t sure how he ended up under the mistletoe _yet again_. Except this time—  
  


This time the other person standing across from him is Katsuki.  
  


Their lips meet in a soft, brief kiss that never fails to steal the breath right from Izuku’s lungs.  
  


What he doesn’t see, however, as he’s staring lovingly into crimson eyes, is a pair of mismatched one’s staring at the pair in barely contained jealousy.

* * *

“I regret to inform you all that this will be my last day here at the palace,” Tenya told his friends, a somber note in his usually extravagantly polite tone.  
  


Ochaco gaped, tears brimming in her eyes. “But—but it’s _Christmas_!” She cried desperately, hugging Tenya tightly as she did so. “No way could he have kicked you out on Christmas!”  
  


The desperate declaration drew a fair bit of attention to the group, most of the Selected now listening in to the news.  
  


Tenya’s expression was painfully grim. “I was not eliminated. This is my choice. My—” He paused, voice choking up with a mix of pain, and anguish, “My brother, Tensei, has recently passed away. He was killed by Stain and—and I believe it’s best that I-I spend some time with my family. I’ll miss you all. _Dearly_.”  
  


Izuku let out a choked sob, burying his face into Tenya’s chest as he wrapped his arms around him in a suffocating bear hug. “Oh, Tenya, I-I’m so sorry you have to go through this! You’re not alone, alright? Even while you’re gone, we’re still here for you!”  
  


Ochaco nodded hurriedly, wiping stray tears still leaking from her brown eyes. “Yeah! We’ll send you letters every day; promise!”  
  


The last to respond was Shoto, who was staring despondently down at his hands in a bitter silence.  
  


“I’ve never had many friends,” he spoke up quietly. Everyone held their breath, listening in with rapt attention. “But you’re one of the few. You’ve always been here for me, and I hope I can do the same for you, Iida. I’ll miss you—we all will. Take—take care.”  
  


The raven-haired boy nodded, enveloping all three of his closest friends in a hug. “I’ll miss you all so much. Thank you for everything—even now. I’ll keep in touch, you have my word.”  
  


Ochaco sniffled, smiling tearfully. “You better keep it, Tenya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This elimination makes me so... sad. I love Iida, and I hate to see him go.. especially on these circumstances. This isn't even the worst it gets...
> 
> On a lighter note, this chapter was slightly more bakudeku centric. I forgot to include Izuku actually giving Bakugou his gift, but it was just a spicy dish that he'd helped to prepare along with the some of the chefs just for Bakugou.
> 
> Now that poor Tenya's gone, we've wittled down the numbers to 18, so here's the remaining members, as well as their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> I literally looked up the meaning of Kacchan, but each site I saw had a different meaning. I went with the site that made the most sense in reference to this fic, and the situation particularly.
> 
> Next chapter will be Uraraka's bday, which is only two days after Christmas, and after that will be a time skip to New Years. I know I'm jumping around a lot, but I realized that before I was going day-by-day, so I'm really just gonna focus on major events from here on out.
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on Tuesday! Until then.


	29. Happy Birthday, Ochaco!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ochaco's bday is here. Too bad she can't celebrate with Tenya too :<
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

_Dear Ochaco,  
  
_

_Despite these unfortunate circumstances occupying most of my time, I’d still like to wish you a happy birthday. Thank you for the constant letters and reassurances from both you and Midoriya. It truly means a lot. I hope the both of you are doing well.  
  
_

_I hope it isn’t too much to ask one favor of the both of you—and that is to win, for me. Although my parents originally pressured me into entering, I was very serious about winning the Selection. Now that that is out of the question, I wish you both the best of luck in that regard.  
  
_

_Surprisingly, I was able to rekindle my friendship with Mei after my return. She’s been a constant presence to help keep me sane while preparing for Tensei’s funeral, which is an honest relief. I wasn’t sure how to cope without you and Midoriya by my side, as I’ve realized how much I’ve been leaning on you two for support, but Hatsume’s presence has been a much needed help.  
  
_

_The funeral is next Sunday, January 3 rd. I’m unsure if it will be possible, but if so I’d love it if you and Midoriya could make it. Despite the fact neither of you knew him, both of your presences would be welcome and much appreciated. I understand completely if, due to the circumstances, you are unable to attend, but know the offer is there.  
  
_

_I’m sorry I couldn’t’ve been there to celebrate your birthday, but I hope you understand why, and are able to fully enjoy it regardless.  
  
_

_Your friend, Tenya  
  
_

Ochaco can’t help the tears that drip silently down her unnaturally pink-tinted cheeks. This is the first either her or Izuku had heard from Tenya since he left, although it had only been a couple days. No doubt he’d been crying while writing this, judging by the tear stains littering the page, now mixed with Ochaco’s own.  
  


The brunette, despite her ever-present tears, took up a pen, and began to write.

* * *

Tenya leaving hit Izuku hard, considering they were so close. He wrote to his friend constantly, reassuring him that he was there for him if need be. So far, neither he nor Ochaco had received any response, but that was to be expected. Surely, he was busy, with everything that had happened.  
  


A soft knock on the door broke him out of his reverie. One of his maids rose to answer it, opening the door fully after only a moment’s hesitation. Izuku glanced up forlornly from where he rested in bed, formerly staring down at a blank sheet of paper. He’d been meaning to write to Tenya, but he couldn’t seem to find the words.  
  


Standing somberly in his doorway was Ochaco, eyes red and puffy from crying. Izuku sat up briskly, taking in his friend’s disheveled appearance with worry.  
  


“Ochaco, is everything alright?” He asked, voice soft as Ochaco gently approached him.  
  


She sat on the edge of his bed, and handed him a lone letter. He opened it, gently, and read the contents. Tears soon sprung up in his own eyes—finally, Tenya had responded.  
  


Izuku huffed out a relieved sigh, giving Ochaco a tight-lipped smile. “It’s good to hear from him,” he remarked earnestly, gently setting the letter down. His smile soon morphed into a frown as he fully processed the contents. “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry, Ochaco! I forgot it was your birthday.”  
  


Ochaco huffed out a laugh, wiping stray tears from her glassy eyes. “Oh, it’s fine Deku, really. After everything that’s happened with Tenya—I don’t blame you.” She sighs, leaning against the headboard. “He wants us to come to Tensei’s funeral.”  
  


“Yeah,” Izuku says softly, curling his knees up to his chest. “Think we’ll be able to go? It’d be a shame not to . . .”  
  


Ochaco shrugged. “I’m not sure. We should, um, talk to Prince Bakugou.”  
  


The greenette nodded, remaining uncharacteristically silent. Ochaco leaned against him, both finding comfort in each other’s presence.  
  


“We—” Izuku paused, clearing his throat after his noticeable voice crack. “We should stop sitting around and moping. It’s n-not what Tenya would want . . .”  
  


“Yeah!” Ochaco says, brandishing her famous enthusiasm. “It’s still my birthday, after all—not every day you turn 19, right? Let’s do something fun to celebrate—get some others in on it, too.”  
  


Izuku snorts. “They’d be all for it, no doubt,” he remarked. “You know a lot of them love to party.”  
  


Ochaco’s smile softens, as she looks forlornly at her clenched fists, tightly gripping the bed sheets. “Let’s give ourselves something fun to tell Tenya about later, yeah?”  
  


Izuku smiles, matching her soft tone. “Definitely.”

* * *

Ochaco barely had half a foot in the door, before Mina was upon, shouting “Happy Birthday!” and showering her in confetti.  
  


“We had the kitchens bake you a cake, too!” She said, gesturing towards some of the others behind her. Hitoshi and Hanta hopped up, holding up a large, pink cake that read ‘Happy Birthday, Ochaco!’ “I know that you guys are still down about Iida leaving and all, but I figured a party could help to get you in better spirits.”  
  


Izuku smiled thinly, squeezing his way through the door and into the room. “We were thinking the same, honestly.”  
  


“Mhm,” Ochaco agreed, nodding sagely. “This means a lot, guys. Thank you so much!”  
  


“It’s the least we could do,” Shoto replied, holding out a slice of cake. “Cake, anyone?”  
  


Everyone quickly dug in, surrounding Ochaco to sing her happy birthday and ask what she wanted to do.  
  


“Let’s just play some mindless games—I could really use some distractions, y’know?” She replied, talking around a mouthful of cake. In her defense, it was _really_ good.  
  


“How about who’s most likely to?” Nejire suggested, bouncing in her seat.  
  


“Yes!” Mina agreed. “I’ll go first! Who’s most likely to get hurt for a really dumb reason?”  
  


Everyone looked at Sero’s wrist—still sprained—and replied, “Sero,” simultaneously.  
  


“It wasn’t that stupid of an accident!” He protested. “Besides, I definitely think it’d be Denki. He’d be lucky to have half a braincell, at the most.”  
  


“Normally, I’d be offended,” Denki replied. “But you’re not wrong.”  
  


Eijiro snorted. “I’ll go next, guys. Who’s most likely to win the Selection?”  
  


There was no hesitation. “You,” everyone chorused.  
  


Eijiro’s face flared a brilliant red, similar to the shade of his hair. “Me?! I doubt it,” he replied, chuckling nervously.  
  


Mina scoffed. “You’re underestimating yourself, hon.”  
  


“I’ll go next,” Hitoshi called out in a bored tone. “Who’s most likely to get arrested?”  
  


This time everyone paused to think about, glancing around the room in consideration.  
  


“Count of three, guys?” Mirio called out, receiving immediate affirmation. “One . . . two . . . three!”  
  


“Denki.” “Monoma!” “’Toshi—” “Tokoyami.” “Um, Ochaco?”  
  


“Woah, woah, woah, hold up,” Kyoka called out, putting a hand up. “What would Uraraka even get arrested for? She’s a sweetheart.”  
  


Izuku, being the one who said Ochaco’s name, blushed. “Probably stealing, to be honest. Or getting in a fist-fight with someone important.”  
  


Ochaco giggled. “I agree, honestly,” she replied, still laughing madly. “I said Monoma, though! I don’t know, he gives me creepy vibes.”  
  


Hanta snorted, while Neito looked personally offended. “I said Denki, ‘cause—well, I don’t know how, but he’d definitely manage to find some stupid stunt to pull to get on the wrong side of the law.”  
  


“I would never!” Denki gasped in mock offense. He pointed accusatorily at Hitoshi. “Doesn’t this face look like one of a murderer? I could see Hitoshi getting caught for homicide.”  
  


“Wow, you have _so_ much faith in me,” Hitoshi replied dryly. “Careful, or I’ll move you to the top of my hit list.”  
  


Denki sweatdropped. “You’re kidding, right?”  
  


“Tokoyami, did you say your own name?—” Nejire asked, interrupting whatever Hitoshi was planning to say.  
  


“Yes. The authorities could never understand my peaceful revelry in the dark,” Fumikage replied ominously.  
  


“What he means is that he’d get arrested for summoning Satan,” Kyoka translated.  
  


“Count me in, man,” Hitoshi replied jokingly, giving Fumikage a dry grin.  
  


“Certainly. You'd be the sacrifice.” Fumikage deadpanned. Denki shivered.  
  


“Moving on!” The blonde called out, in a clear attempt at changing the topic. “Who’s most likely to get married first?”  
  


“Whoever wins,” Hitoshi deadpans, earning himself a slap to the arm in response.  
  


“I just mean in general!” He huffs. “Who do you guys think is best marriage material?”  
  


“Honestly,” Kendo piped up, “I think either Monoma or Momo are the most prepared for the commitment. Momo would make a better spouse, really, so there’s your answer.”  
  


“Yeah, I agree,” Kyoka replied, and everyone else murmured their affirmation.  
  


The game continued on in a similar fashion for a quite a while, until they start running out of questions to ask and instead decide on something else to do.  
  


“Y’know,” Denki began, “you guys still haven’t heard us play. If we can bring Blasty over here, we could play our original song for you guys!”  
  


“Sounds loud,” Tamaki muttered dejectedly.  
  


Nejire elbowed him softly in the side. “That sounds like fun! Weren’t you guys supposed to play on Christmas?”  
  


Momo smiled apologetically. “We were, yeah, but after the news about Tenya’s brother, we felt it was right to wait, instead. I can go search for Prince Bakugou, if you all would like.”  
  


Kyoka looked up at Momo as if she’d hung the moon. “You’re too good for this world, Yaomomo.” She muttered. At Momo’s quizzical look, she flushed red and hurriedly backtracked. “I mean— _yeah_! Sounds good, I’ll, uh. Get the others set up in here.”  
  


“Yeah!” Denki shouted, fists raised enthusiastically in the air. “You guys are gonna _love_ it! Kyoka wrote the song herself!”  
  


Kyoka nervously twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “It’s nothing special, really. Hopefully it doesn’t suck too badly, since it’s your birthday, Uraraka.”  
  


Ochaco waved away her concerns. “I’m sure it’s gonna be great!” She cheered, making Kyoka blush an even deeper red.  
  


Momo returns not too much later with a bristling Katsuki in tow. The lights have been dimmed considerably as Kyoka, Denki and Fumikage set up the music stands.  
  


“It’s out of tune, Kyo,” Denki whines, holding out his guitar to his purple-haired friend, an ever-present pout sat firmly on his lips.  
  


The girl in question sighs, before taking the guitar in her hands and messing around with it to get it in tune.  
  


“ _There_ ,” she says, exasperation seeping into her tone. Denki takes the guitar regardless, beaming brighter than the sun. “Everyone ready?!”  
  


She’s met with a chorus of “Yeah!” from her fellow musicians.  
  


“Let’s get this fucking started!” Katsuki screeches, banging on his drums wildly to start them off.  
  


The song is a fun, fast one. An original, even, that Kyoka simultaneously wrote and composed. She poured her heart and soul into this song, in efforts to impress Katsuki. And _perhaps_ one particular keyboardist, as well.  
  


“The futures left unseen,” Kyoka sang clearly, thanking any and all gods out there that her voice didn’t shake, or crack. “It all depends on me. Put it on the line to follow my dream, yeah!”  
  


This is probably the best she’s heard Denki play so far. Momo had taken to the keyboard like a fish to water, no doubt helped by her experiences as a former pianist. Fumikage had admitted to not having much musical experience, but the guitar had seemingly come naturally to him. Katsuki had been taking drumming lessons his whole life—and, of course, he sounded amazing.  
  


Denki was the only one without any true prior experience, and yet he was still coming out here and killing it. Despite her nerves, Kyoka sat well knowing the fact that she alone was able to bring all five of them together and create _this_.  
  


“Tried all my life! I’ve tried to find!”  
  


She had poured her heart and soul into this song—perhaps it was for the best she was singing this now rather than Christmas. This was her greatest masterpiece, and especially because she was performing this song with her friends by her side. Sharing this moment with another one of her close friends—Ochaco—on her birthday, nonetheless, felt even more special than any old holiday. It felt like a new step in her life, a new experience.  
  


One she was sure to never forget.

* * *

The makeshift party had been loads of fun, especially after Katsuki decided to join in. Despite the amazing night she’d had, Ochaco couldn’t help but feel like something was missing—that something being Tenya. She knew it was probably silly to miss someone so fiercely that she’d only known for a short amount of time, but Ochaco really couldn’t help the worry settling in her chest.  
  


Because, if he was back home, there was nothing keeping him safe from Stain, either. Finding out Stain had attacked and killed Tenya’s older brother, Tensei, had been hard on all of them to hear. Realizing that Tenya was going back home, in an area near where Stain was no doubt still lurking, left her with an odd sense of unease.  
  


After Katsuki had shown her this spot on the roof, Ochaco found herself climbing the steps leading her more often than not when she felt especially troubled over something. The moonlight shone through the clouds, a sliver of silver light shining over the rooftop and boring down on her.  
  


Ochaco stared forlornly at the sky, putting together little constellations in her mind as a distraction. It wasn’t working as well as it really should, but it was a reprieve she hadn’t truly had all day. She wondered how she’d ever manage to sleep without the guidance of the stars, that night.  
  


Soft footsteps resounded behind her, alerting her to the presence of someone else. “Looks like I’m not the only one who decided to come here, tonight,” Katsuki’s gruff voice rang out. Ochaco heard more than saw him take a seat beside of her.  
  


“I guess,” she said, voice unnaturally soft. “I’ve been coming here every night, since . . . well, you know.”  
  


Katsuki nodded, although Ochaco couldn’t necessarily see the gesture. “I know you two were close. But he’s gonna be fine, y’know?”  
  


“No,” Ochaco snapped, glaring at Katsuki heatedly. If he seemed surprised by her outburst, he certainly didn’t show it. “I don’t know! Why the hell do you think I’m out here?!”  
  


The blonde huffed, his frozen breath escaping his lips in little white puffs. “You’re right. None of us know.” He admitted, voice uncharacteristically calm. “What I _do_ know is that Iida wouldn’t wantcha losing sleep over his well-being. Have faith, round cheeks. He can take care of his damn self.”  
  


“Not against _Stain_ ,” she reiterated forcefully.  
  


“Ya think he’s gonna go out wandering at night, just waitin’ to get jumped by that damn bastard after what just happened to his brother? If I were his parents, I wouldn’t let ‘em out of my sight,” Katsuki reminded her.  
  


Ochaco paused. “I suppose,” she began softly, “you do have a point. You really believe he’s gonna be okay?”  
  


“You may be unsure,” Katsuki replied. “But I know for a fact he’ll be just fine. You should too.”  
  


She sighed, tears springing up in her eyes. Whether from relief, or fear, she wasn’t entirely sure.  
  


“Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” Ochaco admitted, voice choked up with emotion. “His brother’s funeral is—it’s next Sunday.”  
  


Katsuki, noticing her tears, placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on the small of her back, albeit unsurely. “Yeah?”  
  


“Mhm.” Ochaco nodded, blinking tears out of her eyes. “He invited me and Deku to attend—if you don’t mind us temporarily leaving, th-that is.”  
  


“I don’t mind,” he reassured her. “You two could benefit from the visit, I’m sure.”  
  


Ochaco nodded, remaining silent. Her tears had returned tenfold, and although she’d love to thank Katsuki, she wasn’t sure she could do so without her voice cracking.  
  


Katsuki pulled her into a one-armed hug, kissing her temple gently.  
  


“Get some sleep,” he reminded, gently despite his usual abrasiveness. “You could use it.”  
  


“Yeah,” Ochaco choked out, standing up on slightly wobbly knees. “Thanks.”  
  


Katsuki shrugged. “No problem. Oh,” he said, as if remembering something. “And happy birthday, Ochaco.”  
  


Ochaco couldn’t help the grin that overtook her face at that, despite her tears. She left the rooftop, happier than she’d felt ever since Tenya’s departure, and a smile on her face.  
  


Despite everything, there was no doubt that this was her best birthday yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tenya's departure was meant to hit differently for everyone, not only because of the circumstances but also because we're getting farther into the Selected. People are building deeper bonds, now.
> 
> Here's the list of the remaining 18 Selected, plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> The next two chapters are gonna be... a lot, so. Prepare. I'm also planning to have the Elite be announced soon as well. The Elite are the final ten who make it in the Selection, pretty much, although in the books Maxon immediately narrowed it down to six. Because I'm indecisive, we're just gonna stick with ten ^^ Those ten will probably be revealed in three or four chapters.
> 
> Next chapter is the first part of New Years Eve + New Years, which I'll have out on Friday :P


	30. The New Year's Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like, as I'm writing this, I'm slowly forgetting the English language. It took me ten minutes just to recall the word 'internal'. I'm screwed when school comes back into session lmao
> 
> Enjoy the chapter ^^

Denki woke to the sound of incessant knocking wrapping against his door. Checking the clock, he noticed it was already 10:30 a.m.—much later than the time he usually slept ‘til.  
  


“’m comin’,” he called, voice muffled by the after-effects of sleep.  
  


Standing up and stretching, Denki made his way towards the door. Upon opening it, he was met with the overexcited faces of his three best friends—Mina, Hanta, and Eijiro.  
  


“Hey man! Happy New Year’s Eve!” Eijiro beamed, inviting himself into Denki’s room and casually flopping down on his bed.  
  


Denki yawned. “Make yourself at home, I guess,” he grumbled groggily. “It’s too early in the morning to be this enthusiastic. I need my beauty rest, guys!”  
  


Mina laid down on the bed next to Eijiro, getting comfortable in the fluffy, white sheets.  
  


“It’s already half past ten, Denks,” she pointed out. She casually slipped off her shoes, making herself perfectly comfortable on the entirety of Denki’s bed.  
  


“Hey, save some space for me!” Hanta yelled, dive-bombing over the bed. Mina and Eijiro hurriedly scrambled out of the way, laughing the whole time. “Ah, yes, that’s better.”  
  


Denki gave them a blank, and somewhat tired, look. “This is still _my_ room, you know,” he pointed out, deliberately shoving Hanta onto the floor in an effort to make space for himself. Hanta squawked loudly in protest. “’m goin’ back to sleep.”  
  


A pillow to the face is what officially woke him up. Hanta stood over him, grinning mischievously, pillow slung over his shoulder.  
  


“Oh, it is _on_.”  
  


Denki grabbed a pillow, and not even five minutes had passed before a full on pillow fight broke out. Their laughter and war cry’s filled the large room, bringing a sense of comfortable ease washing over the four. Denki had gotten a pillow to the face at least a dozen times, but it didn’t feel _mean_ , or competitive. It felt _fun_.  
  


Hanta, winded, lied on the floor in contempt, grinning like a madman. “Truce?” He asked, holding out a hand.  
  


The others stuck out their hands as well, grins just as bright—Hanta’s smile always seemed to have that sort of effect on others. “Truce.” They chorused.  
  


Mina sighed into the sheets, lying down in the folds. “You three always keep me on my toes, that’s for sure.” She said jokingly.  
  


“To be fair,” Eijiro interjected, “if you didn’t want to take part in pillow fights at ten in the morning, you wouldn’t have three teenage boys as your best friends.”  
  


“That’s—yeah, that’s fair,” Mina agreed, snorting. She sat up, wrapping the blanket around her. “Why’s your room so cold, Denki?”  
  


The boy in question scoffed, snatching the blankets away from Mina. She whined, pulling desperately at what was left.  
  


“My room isn’t cold!” He protested. “You guys complain too much.”  
  


Mina poked his cheek, grinning cheekily. “You love us anyways.”  
  


Denki rolled his eyes, but he was smiling anyways. “ _Maybe_ ,” he amended.  
  


“Moving on—” Hanta interjected, climbing back onto the bed. He splayed himself out so he was resting his limbs on top of all three of them. “Breakfast is in, like, ten minutes, man. We gotta _go_.”  
  


Panic flared up in Denki’s chest as he hurriedly checked the time. “It— _what_?!” He shrieked, leaping out of the bed as though it’d burnt him. “ _Ten_?! Why didn’t you warn me sooner?!”  
  


Hanta cackled, watching his best friend’s dash through his closet in an attempt to quickly get dressed, while also appearing presentable.  
  


“I didn’t tell you because I _knew_ you’d react this way,” Hanta said amidst his laughter.  
  


Denki flipped him off, only causing the laughter to flare up again, twice as bad.  
  


“How do I look?” He asked, standing in front of the three.  
  


Mina looked on at her friend in barely concealed disgust. “Honey, is that _orange_? No—just, _no_.”  
  


She stood, pulling out a black vest for him from his closet. Denki looked on as she completely redid his outfit, improving it tenfold in a matter of minutes.  
  


“Mina,” Denki spoke, voice choked up. “You. Are. A. _Lifesaver_.”  
  


The pink-haired girl grinned, attempting to do a dramatic hair-flip with the curly pink locks she still had. “I know, hon. I know.”

* * *

Things had become so emotional lately that it was easy to forget that the main purpose of the Selection was to impress Katsuki. Izuku had been so caught up in thinking about Tenya, that he’d nearly forgotten today was New Year’s Eve.  
  


And he had a suitor to impress, not to mention.  
  


Izuku decided to pull out all the stops tonight, to make up for his recent lack of enthusiasm regarding the Selection. Yes, he missed Tenya. But he also loved Katsuki, and there was no way in hell Izuku was going to lose this chance to be with him, especially not after Tenya asked him or Ochaco to win in his honor. Izuku promised his friend he would do everything in his power to uphold this request—and he _never_ broke his promises.  
  


Multiple people called Izuku one thing during his stay at the palace—his maids, the other Selected, even _Mitsuki_ —and that was ‘ _cute_ ’. Normally, he’d never look in the mirror and think he was in any way attractive, but if the others saw him and thought he was cute, then that was a strength he’d have to play to.  
  


Looking at himself now, Izuku couldn’t help but think he looked _good_. More than good, even.  
  


A knock on the door disrupted his thoughts, as he rushed over to answer.  
  


“Oh! Ochaco, Shoto, come in!” Izuku tugged the door open further, allowing the pair entrance.  
  


Ochaco whistled lowly. “Wow, Deku, you look great! Your maids really outdid themselves.”  
  


Izuku blushed at the outwardly praise, and he noticed that Shoto’s face was unnaturally red, as well. Odd.  
  


“Well, you know, Tenya’s request just made me remember how badly I want this, so I decided to just, well, go all in. I’m glad you like this, my, uh, maids said this has been their best outfit yet.” Izuku rambled, nervously scratching the nape of his neck.  
  


“Yeah,” Shoto replied distantly, eyes glazed over with an emotion Izuku couldn’t place. “Definitely their best, so far.”  
  


“The ensemble for tonight is even better! They’re so talented!” Izuku gushed, taking a seat on the edge of his bed.  
  


Ochaco winked at him. “Well, it definitely helps that you’re cute enough to make it work.” Izuku felt his face growing impossibly warmer. “I’m going for something understated right now, but I’ve got something big planned for tonight! At the last party, only Kirishima got to dance with Prince Bakugou, but I’m earning myself a dance tonight!”  
  


Her enthusiasm was positively infectious, and soon Izuku found himself grinning and cheering along. They even managed to get Shoto to join in, albeit reluctantly on his part.  
  


“Breakfast starts soon!” Izuku reminded the pair, and they both turned, predictably, to look at the time in shock. “We should really get going.”  
  


Ochaco led the way, with Shoto and Izuku walking side-by-side behind her. Izuku got many compliments from the palace staff along the way, boosting his confidence by tenfold.  
  


“Todoroki and I are going in first,” Ochaco said sternly, tugging on Shoto’s wrist. He replied with a shrug, following after obediently. “Follow after us a few minutes later, and make sure you’re alone! It draws more attention!”  
  


“Remember,” Shoto drawled, “to be as dramatic as possible. See you later, Izuku.”  
  


And with that, they were gone. Izuku paced back and forth outside the door, waiting for the appropriate time to enter. Neito passed him while he was waiting, glaring at Izuku with what he could only take to be jealousy.  
  


He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there—at least 15 minutes, for sure—but perhaps he was cutting it a little _too_ close. Should he go inside now, or keep waiting?  
  


“You’re going to be late if you pace any longer,” Aizawa deadpanned. Izuku nearly jumped out of his skin, having forgotten that the man was there. “Unless you’re planning on being late. I can tell you when it’s been a few minutes past the start.”  
  


Izuku beamed, smiling gratefully. “Has anyone ever told you how amazing you are, Aizawa-sensei?”  
  


Aizawa merely rolled his eyes, resuming his post.  
  


Not even five minutes later, the bakusquad—minus Katsuki—ran up. They entered the Great Hall without a moment’s hesitation, hardly even noticing Izuku pacing, the exception being Eijiro who shot him a hasty thumbs up. A couple minutes after, Aizawa notified him that breakfast had begun.  
  


It was Izuku’s turn to make a statement, now, and he was certain he’d grab Katsuki’s attention.

* * *

“Yo,” Camie called out to her table-mates—those being both Momo, and Ochaco—and sufficiently grabbing their attention. “Where’s Mido? He’s usually early, fam.”  
  


Ochaco merely laughed away her concerns, watching hungrily as the chefs began bringing out their food. “Oh, don’t worry about him. He’s trying to make a dramatic entrance to impress Prince Bakugou!”  
  


“Um.” Momo smiled sheepishly at Ochaco, tilting her head towards the royals table. “Unfortunately, he hasn’t arrived yet. Hopefully he does before Midoriya comes in, though! It’d be a shame for his efforts to go to waste . . .”  
  


The brunette took a nervous bite of her food, eyes trained intently on the door that Katsuki usually entered through. Five minutes into breakfast, and he _still_ hadn’t arrived.  
  


Ochaco sighed, focusing instead on just enjoying her meal. The resounding sound of banging doors reverberated throughout the room, causing Ochaco to glance up with her last glimmers of hope for her best friend. Alas, it was Izuku, standing proudly in his most handsome ensemble yet.  
  


And with no Katsuki around to appreciate his efforts.

* * *

Keigo groaned, lying face down on the bed. He shifted constantly, trying to find a comfortable position, to no avail. Dabi looked at his unofficial boyfriend in worry, watching as he struggled with lower abdominal pain, as he’d formerly described it.  
  


“Listen, Keigo.” The man in question groaned in response to show he was listening. “If it’s getting this bad then maybe you should have Recovery Girl check it out.”  
  


The blonde sighed, shifting again, before giving up and slumping into a rather uncomfortable position. He’d been blatantly avoiding going to see Recovery Girl, because he didn’t want to accept the fact that it might be something bad.  
  


“Yeah,” Keigo forced out reluctantly through clenched teeth. “Maybe I should.”  
  


Dabi rubbed his back soothingly. “Want me to take you there, now? We can skip the party tonight, too, if you’d like.”  
  


“No!” Keigo cried, before crumpling in on himself with a pitiful moan. “No, just—I want you to go. Please?”  
  


Dabi’s resolve melted at the sight of Keigo’s half-baked puppy dog eyes. Even half-assed, how could he possibly say no to that?  
  


“Fine,” he bit out. “But I’ll hate every minute of it.”  
  


Keigo grinned weakly, still managing to appear cheeky even while in pain. “You’d hate it even if I were there with you.” So, maybe he was right about that, although Dabi would never admit it. “Are we gonna go see Recovery Girl, or what?”  
  


Dabi scoffed at the way Keigo held his arms out expectantly, although he picked the blonde up anyways. He was heavier than Dabi had honestly been expecting, but manageable nonetheless.  
  


“Yeah, let’s go little birdie.”  
  


The walk there took an agonizing length of time, worsened only by Keigo’s gasps and groans of pain. The constant change in position clearly wasn’t doing him any favors. Dabi tried to avoid others, to save the blonde from embarrassment, although they inevitably passed quite a few palace staff. At least they had the good sense to keep quiet.  
  


Upon arriving, Recovery Girl was sitting in her office patiently, restocking supplies while humming mindlessly to herself. Dabi pointedly cleared his throat, gaining her immediate attention.  
  


“Hey, um, he’s been having some pain in his lower abdomen recently. Mind checking it out?” Dabi asked, worry seeping into his tone despite his best efforts.  
  


Recovery Girl shot him a reassuring smile, gesturing for Dabi to lie Keigo down on one of her cots, which he did so reluctantly.  
  


“I’ll do a check-up to try and discern the issue. Keigo, would you rather this be done in private, or do you want Dabi to stay with you?” She asked in a gentle tone.  
  


Keigo hesitated, before looking up at Dabi apologetically. “I’d rather this were private, honestly,” he replied meekly, giving Dabi’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Go get ready for the New Year’s party, babe. I’ll tell you the verdict when all is said and done.”  
  


Dabi grumbled incoherently, but ultimately agreed. He kissed Keigo briefly on the forehead before stalking out of the room dejectedly. Keigo laughed at his boyfriend’s antics.  
  


“You two seem really close,” Recovery Girl noted warmly, winking. Keigo felt his face flushing despite himself.  
  


“We’re not official or anything, yet, but, um,” Keigo hesitated, a dopey smile overtaking his features. “I really, _really_ like him.”

* * *

Izuku could feel his cheeks heating up with embarrassment as he realized his whole dramatic showing had been for naught. He took a seat at Eijiro and Neito’s side, gazing dejectedly down at his food as he shoveled in bite after bite.  
  


“Seems your little plan didn’t work out in your favor, after all,” Neito leered smugly, taking a long sip of water. “It’s a good thing, too. You look dreadful, regardless.”  
  


Eijiro glared at the blonde, while Izuku cowered in his seat, ashamed. He’d tried to put in so much effort—but maybe there really was nothing he could do. Maybe nothing would ever be enough. Katsuki could never possibly love someone like him, anyways, he’s just a stupid, worthless, Deku, after all—  
  


“Hey, man, you’re not worthless,” Eijiro muttered. Izuku flushed, clapping his hands over his mouth hurriedly. Had he said all of that out loud? “You look great, really. And—even though we’re technically competing—I think you’ve got a pretty good shot with Bakugou regardless. Have a little more faith in yourself, okay?”  
  


Izuku nodded numbly, attempting to blink away the tears springing forth in his eyes. He refused to cry, not now.  
  


“Thanks, Kirishima,” he muttered, giving the redhead a wane smile. Eijiro returned the gesture earnestly, before returning to his meal with vigor.  
  


The Great Hall was filled with excited chatter for the events later in the day, but all Izuku could do was sit and wonder about Katsuki’s empty seat. He’d been fine the night before at dinner, so what could’ve happened that he had to skip breakfast for? Soon, Izuku found his anxiety being replaced with worry for the ash blonde. Was he alright?  
  


He was silent as he walked back to his room, contemplating Katsuki’s absence.  
  


“Hey, Deku!” Ochaco’s cheerful voice called from behind his back. “Sorry you weren’t able to make an impression on Prince Bakugou this morning. You’ll have another shot tonight, I’m sure!”  
  


Izuku smiled earnestly, allowing his best friend’s reassurances to calm him. “Yeah. Thanks, Ochaco.”  
  


She shot him a thumbs up, smiling before turning around and walking away towards the Selected’s parlor. After noticing Izuku not following, she turned back towards him, a frown present on her face.  
  


“Are you coming?” She asked, eyebrows drawing together in worry.  
  


Izuku shot her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Nah, I’m just gonna head back on up to my room. I’ll probably be there for a while, but I’ll see you at lunch!”  
  


He waved goodbye, and left hastily. In his quick retreat, Izuku missed the worried frown Ochaco was directing his way.

* * *

“Katsuki, you at least have to eat.” Akira pulled persistently on his arm, although the blonde refused to budge. “What’s with you, today? Everything okay?”  
  


“I don’t know,” Katsuki grumbled hoarsely, burying his face further into the sheets. “I just feel like shit. Leave me alone, please?”  
  


Akira bit her lip worriedly, placing a hand over her best friend’s forehead. It was scorching.  
  


“’Suki, you’re burning up,” she replied, worry seeping evidently into her tone. “Maybe you should go to Recovery Girl.”  
  


“ _No_ ,” Katsuki snapped, attempting to sit up before slinking back down with an audible groan. “Just get me some damn Aspirin already. I’ll be fine in time for the party, jeez.”  
  


“Alright,” Akira murmured reluctantly, standing up to get him some medicine. “I’ll be back in ten, alright?”  
  


A grunt was all she received in response. Akira fled from the room, clicking the door shut softly, before walking towards the infirmary with purpose. Her friend was sick, and quite possibly in pain—it was her duty as his best friend, as well as her job as his handmaid, to help.  
  


She was surprised to find she made it to the infirmary in record time. Inside, Akira could hear the soft chatter of two voices, indicating that someone else was inside along with at least Recovery Girl.  
  


Akira pushed the door open, announcing her presence, and the two voices halted. Both pair of eyes turned to her, and she flushed from the sudden attention. One pair belonged to none other than Recovery Girl, the well esteemed nurse who’d worked at this very castle longer than Akira had been alive. The other pair of simmering golden eyes belonged to Keigo Takami, the foreign Prince from Fukuoka.  
  


“Um, hi,” she spoke shyly, directing her gaze down to her shoes. “His Highness is sick, and requested I come here to fetch him some aspirin?”  
  


It was phrased more as a question, but Recovery Girl hardly hesitated a moment before rushing off to find what Akira had asked for.  
  


“Hear you are, dearie,” the old woman said kindly. “Send him my best regards. Now, back to you, young man.”  
  


Akira took that as her cue to leave. She rushed out the door, sighing in relief. Talking to the higher-ups always made her feel nervous, with few exceptions. Katsuki being one, of course.  
  


Despite her best interest, Akira found herself listening in to the conversation taking place between the old nurse and the foreign Prince. What had he been in for, anyways?  
  


“Well, I ran several tests overall, and I did manage to find something peculiar. You may not like the news, I’m afraid.” Recovery Girl’s voice carried on quietly through the door.  
  


Akira leaned her ear against his, holding her breath in anticipation. “That doesn’t sound good . . .”  
  


“To put it quite simply, dearie, you have an STD. Chlamydia, to be precise.” Akira could barely hold back her gasp. He had _what_!? “I’m guessing you contracted it from Dabi, based on the interactions I’ve seen between you two. The good news is, it is curable, and you’ll ultimately be fine. If you got it from Dabi, that means he has it as well, and is merely asymptomatic. I can cure you both, lickety split, though!”  
  


Keigo’s breathing was picking up as he fully processed the news. “I—I have— _shit_.” He took a deep breath. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll talk to To—Dabi, as soon as I can.”  
  


Akira was sincerely regretting listening in on that conversation. It felt almost _too_ private. She rushed away as fast as her legs could carry her at the sound of approaching footsteps, although apparently it hadn’t been quite quick enough.  
  


“Did you hear all that?”  
  


She turned around, being met face to face with an anxiety ridden Keigo Takami. Hesitantly, she nodded.  
  


Keigo sighed. “Please don’t tell anyone. While sex before marriage isn’t illegal where I’m from, like it is here, it is certainly frowned upon. If my guardian caught wind that I had an _STD_ , of all things . . .”  
  


“I,” Akira paused, clearing her throat. “I get it. Not a word.” She felt herself flushing to the tips of her ears with embarrassment. “Sorry I listened in. I just—I couldn’t help myself!”  
  


Keigo huffed a small laugh, waving away her concerns easily. “It’s fine, so long as you don’t go blabbing.” He paused. “I suppose you can tell Prince Bakugou, though. I’ve heard you two are close.”  
  


Good thing, too, because she had never planned on keeping something like this from her best friend, anyways.

* * *

Eijiro had certainly noticed everyone dressing to impress, tonight. Izuku had pulled out all the stops for breakfast alone—no doubt he’d be taking it up a notch for the New Year’s party, as well. Mina was still refusing to let anyone but her maid’s see her until the party starts.  
  


Eijiro, on the other hand, was outright panicking. His maids were, too, and that definitely wasn’t helping the situation. He knows he’s already made quite the impression on Katsuki, considering how close the two had grown, but Eijiro still needed to make a constant effort.  
  


“You wanna stand out, right?” One of his maids—Sachiko—asked him, pausing a moment to consider her options. Eijiro nodded by way of response. “I have an idea, then.”  
  


Kanna’s eyes lit up as she turned to face her friend, and fellow maid. “What’s your idea?” She asked, hands frozen in place as she waited.  
  


Aina had walked over mid-conversation, waiting to hear what was to be said as well. The girl’s shimmering hazel eyes sparkled with interest, and mirth.  
  


“Let’s _not_ gel up your hair—” Eijiro already hated this idea, “and instead, style it! It’s pretty long, we have a lot to work with.”  
  


Eijiro gaped, hand rising protectively towards his spiked up red locks. “Absolutely not,” he protested firmly.  
  


Aina gave him a challenging glare, which he easily met.  
  


“Kirishima,” Kanna said, voice sickly sweet. “Sit down. And we’ll do the rest.”  
  


Eijiro resigned himself to his fate, sitting down in front of the sink and allowing them to wash out the remnants of gel in his hair. Kanna refinished his roots, leaving behind no traces of black.  
  


“Get in the bath, Kirishima, and when you’re out we’ll have something ready for you,” Sachiko said firmly, leaving no room for argument.  
  


Aina had already drawn a bath, warm to the touch. It felt nice against Eijiro’s skin as he scrubbed himself clean. He worked his newly dyed hair to a lather, staining the once clear bathwater a rose colored pink. After a thorough scrubbing, his skin soon nearly matched.  
  


“I’m done, guys,” Eijiro called out, sighing. He dried his hair quickly with an old towel that they’d decided to use whenever they’d just dyed his roots. Already, the formerly grey towel was turning an intense shade of crimson.  
  


Kanna guided him gently to the vanity, blow-drying his hair out straight, before setting off to work. Eijiro could hear his two other maids hustling and bustling behind him as Kanna braided two thin strips of hair, guiding them back into a simple ponytail. She mussed up his bangs stylishly, before proclaiming his hair to be finished.  
  


“Shit, Kirishima, you look _great_!” Sachiko exclaimed, clapping her hands together excitedly. “Let’s get you in your suit, yeah?”  
  


Eijiro had to admit—his hair didn’t look half bad. Hopefully Katsuki would agree.  
  


His suit looked even better. No tie—thank god, they’d finally dropped the idea of him trying to wear a damn tie—but he didn’t look lazy, either. His buttons were skillfully undone to look good, despite his lack of a tie.  
  


His suit jacket and pants were both a deep, navy blue. Dark enough that without proper lighting, they appeared black. Brought together by the barest hints of a crimson vest underneath—it _was_ Katsuki’s favorite color, after all—and Eijiro was definitely ready to go.  
  


Everyone else was going to be vying for Katsuki’s attention, tonight, and Eijiro would be, too. And there was no way he was giving up without a fight.

* * *

The walk back to Dabi’s room was agonizingly slow. Keigo felt unbearably embarrassed after learning he had contracted an STD, _and_ that a member of the palace staff had overheard. But, telling Dabi the news was definitely going to be just as mortifying.  
  


Dabi heard him before he saw him, the soft sound of the door opening indicating Keigo’s immediate presence.  
  


“Keigo?” Dabi’s gruff voice rang out. “That you?”  
  


Keigo smiled wanly, walking into the light before promptly dive-bombing onto the bed and burrowing within his boyfriend’s silky sheets. Dabi chuckled lightly, lying at his side and wrapping an arm around him protectively. Keigo instinctually leaned into the welcomed touch.  
  


“Who else would it be?” Keigo murmured, voice barely audible while muffled by the bedsheets.  
  


Dabi sighed, although it sounded more fond than anything else. “Toga, maybe. That bitch won’t stop bother me.”  
  


Keigo snorted a laugh, wincing in pain at the action. Dabi noticed, frowning.  
  


“What’d Recovery Girl say?” He asked softly, uncharacteristically kind.  
  


Keigo decided to just bite the bullet. He sighed, resigned.  
  


“I have chlamydia.”  
  


“You have _what_?!”

* * *

Katsuki felt like shit, and the news about the foreign Prince contracting an STD during his time at the palace had made him laugh so hard he’d nearly coughed up a lung. His throat was feeling especially sore, even after the near gallon of water he’d chugged down in a short period of time.  
  


Drinks were definitely his first priority.  
  


Five minutes in, and he’d already gotten multiple requests to dance. The Selected were dressed in their finest today, no doubt in an attempt to impress him above all else, and the effort didn’t go unnoticed. Unfortunately, it seemed he had contracted some strain of the flu, and Katsuki didn’t want to risk infecting any of his suitors.  
  


He had appearances to maintain, of course, so he’d shown up. He’ll be gone in half an hour, of course. He felt as though he were treading on death’s doorstep, and each step was causing immense amounts of pain. Sure, he was doped up on a mixture of aspirin and pain meds, but that couldn’t solve everything.  
  


“Prince Bakugou!” Katsuki turned towards the familiar, high pitched voice tiredly. Izuku’s ordinarily blinding grin made him feel like vomiting from the sheer intensity. Although, Katsuki had to admit, the man looked simply _stunning_.  
  


His suit wasn’t anything to behold—in fact, it was fairly ordinary. A silky green tie and pinstriped suit to match, with a dashing black vest underneath. It was the new hair-do that caught Katsuki’s eye.  
  


His ordinarily messy, green curls were slicked back with gel, making him appear much older and more mature than before. It was a good look, and on any other day, Katsuki would’ve asked the boy to dance to prove his appreciation. But, right now, when he was seconds away from vomiting up his meager lunch that really didn’t sound like a good idea.  
  


“So, um, I was wonder,” Izuku muttered nervously, viridian eyes flitting back and forth. “Would you care to join me for a dance?”  
  


Katsuki made a move to refuse, but the quick movement jostled his weak stomach. To his utter horror and embarrassment, he proceeded to puke his guts out all over the bottom of Izuku’s pants, as well as his shoes. Izuku had the decency enough not to look _too_ upset over it.  
  


“I’ll, um, take that as a no, then?”

* * *

The party was everything Denki could’ve hoped for and more. Perhaps that was partially due to the fact that he was attached at the hip to none other than Hitoshi, but if so, no one needed to know.  
  


He was well aware that their relationship was definitely illegal, but it just felt so _right_. That only led to another series of internal dilemmas for the blonde, including the fact that he was still irrevocably in love with Katsuki.  
  


And Hitoshi.  
  


Denki had never been in love even _once_ before in his life. Now, since his short time at the palace, he was in love with not _one_ man—the one he was competing to marry—but _two_. And the other boy, Hitoshi, wasn’t even supposed to be an option. So why did it feel more right with him, than Katsuki?  
  


“Something on your mind?” Hitoshi asked, his deep, sultry voice rumbling against Denki’s chest.  
  


“Um, no,” Denki lied, hiding his face in the crook of Hitoshi’s neck. He knew Hitoshi could tell he was lying, but, luckily, the violet-haired boy didn’t comment.  
  


“If you say so,” he replied instead, pulling Denki impossibly closer to his chest.  
  


Denki basked in the taller boy’s warmth, allowing himself to lean graciously into the touch. They danced fervently, blocking out everything around them. All Denki knew was this amazing man before him, wrapping the blonde up in his strong arms.  
  


And then Katsuki arrived. Suddenly Hitoshi wasn’t the only one in his sights, anymore.  
  


Hitoshi noticed his attention drifting immediately, clenching his jaw as he glared at the ash blonde in jealousy. Oddly enough, Katsuki currently looked flushed, and dizzy. Had he been drinking?  
  


“Is Bakugou okay?” Denki whispered. Hell if he knew. “He looks high off his ass.”  
  


Hitoshi couldn’t stop the bellowing laughter that erupted from his chest at that, because Denki was _spot on_.  
  


“Well,” Hitoshi replied after the laughter had died down. Denki was grinning, watching him with a beautiful light in his golden eyes. “Maybe we should ask for some of whatever he's hiding.”  
  


Denki scoffed, smacking his arm lightly. “If you get high I’m not dancing with you anymore, ‘Toshi.”  
  


“Wow, you’re one to talk,” Hitoshi deadpanned.  
  


“That was _one time_!” Denki protested, and Hitoshi couldn’t stop himself from laughing yet again at the blonde’s offended expression. “Seriously, though, does he need help?”  
  


Jealousy flared up again in Hitoshi’s chest, rearing it’s ugly head. “I’m sure he’s fine,” Hitoshi replied offhandedly, trying to gain back the blonde’s attention. “Hey, um, you wanna go somewhere more . . . private?”  
  


Denki smirked devilishly, nodding. He pulled Hitoshi along through the massive throng of dancing guests, slipping out the side door silently. Hitoshi followed, a fond smile tugging at his lips.  
  


“Here, it’ll be a tight squeeze,” Denki muttered, pushing Hitoshi into what he quickly discovered was a broom closet.  
  


Hitoshi wasted no time in shutting the door, enveloping the two in darkness. Their lips met regardless, bodies melting together as if they were made to do so.  
  


What they didn’t notice, however, was the pair of silver eyes which had been trailing them ever since they’d left the banquet hall.

* * *

“Hello, could I request a small favor,” Neito said, approaching a guard whom was standing off to the side with a small smile.  
  


“What can I do for you, Sir Monoma?” The guard asked respectfully, back stick straight.  
  


“Oh, well, I spied some rather suspicious behavior between two Selected only just a moment earlier.” Neito replied, tone dropping conspiratorially. The guard gave him a rather serious look, making it known he was listening intently. “They left out that door back there, and disappeared in the hallway. I’m sure they’re somewhere nearby, still. I was only wondering if you could check it out. Make sure they’re not up to no good?”  
  


The guard nodded stiffly, thanking Neito for his contributions on the matter, before taking off in the direction Neito had directed him towards. The blonde in question grinned maniacally.  
  


That’s two down, and fifteen more to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies, Hawks (and Dabi, since he has chlamydia too :T). At least it's curable, I made sure of that.
> 
> Does anyone remember the penalty for cheating on the Prince? If you don't, you might just get a reminder next chapter . . .
> 
> Here's the list of the remaining 18 Selected, plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Kaminari Denki – Four  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Shinso Hitoshi – Eight  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> To be clear, Denki and Shinso left before Katsuki threw up. Speaking of him throwing up, poor Izu.
> 
> Next chapter will come out on Tuesday. Unless you're a masochist, you probably wont like it, tbh. 'til then


	31. Farewell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry :<

“Katsuki, get up, _now_ ,” Akira ordered, throwing the sheets off of him and onto the floor. Katsuki groaned, blinking his eyes open and wincing at the bright lights.  
  


His fever still hadn’t broke, unfortunately, and it left him feeling like absolute shit. His throat was uncomfortably sore, and there was an odd pain throbbing behind his eyes.  
  


“Why?” He groaned, rolling back over and shutting his eyes to block out the painful fluorescent lighting.  
  


Akira sighed, panicking slightly. Her news was _urgent_ , and she really needed her friend to comply with her as well as his parents right now, considering the circumstances. She wouldn’t dream of waking Katsuki up this early on any other day, especially not when he was sick.  
  


“Katsuki,” Akira said, her tone dangerous. “Get. Up. Two of the Selected were caught making out in a broom closet last night.”  
  


 _That_ certainly caught his attention.  
  


He shot up, eyes wide in disbelief. “Who?!” He shouted as he ran to his closet in his haste to get changed.  
  


Akira rubbed her eyes tiredly, watching her friend rush around the room. “Sir Kaminari and Sir Shinso.”  
  


Katsuki froze, the words settling uncomfortably in his brain. Despite himself, tears sprung up in his eyes at the thought that they—they’d be—  
  


“Katsuki, _breathe_ ,” Akira’s panicked voice rang out, muffled slightly by the blood pounding in his ears. Akira took his hand gently, setting it against her chest and taking a deep breath. “Just try to match my breathing, okay?”  
  


They stood together for a while, working to calm Katsuki down. Each time he tried to take a deep breath, the thought of Denki and Hitoshi being publicly _killed_ sprung up in his mind, restarting the whole process. Eventually, he was able to shut down the thoughts, and take a deep breath, one after another.  
  


“I’m so sorry, Katsuki,” Akira said in a tearful voice. “I know that you’re close with _all_ of the Selected . . .”  
  


Katsuki nodded solemnly, perching temporarily on the edge of his bed as he processed this new information. Maybe it was best he didn’t think too hard about it, about what both Denki and Hitoshi were soon to face.  
  


“I don’t want to get your hopes up, but . . .” Katsuki directed his tear-filled gaze to his best friend, “you could try talking to your parents about lightening the sentence.”  
  


There was no way he’d be able to talk the couple out of any form of punishment, but . . . perhaps a public lashing and both of their caste’s being reduced to a Six? His parents _might_ go for it, although it was a slim chance.  
  


“Yeah,” he whispered, feeling the spark of hope flare up in his chest regardless. “And I’m _not_ taking no for an answer.”  
  


Akira shot him a watery smile, fluffing his unkempt blonde locks, fondly. “There’s the Katsuki I know.”

* * *

“I understand you must feel really upset during this trying time, Katsuki,” Masaru said sympathetically, looking at his son pitifully.  
  


“I don’t want your fucking pity, old man!” Katsuki snapped, barely holding back an audible growl that pressed persistently against his tightly closed lips. “What I _need_ is a favor.”  
  


“What is it, brat?” Mitsuki piped up, a familiar scowl residing amongst her flawless features. She, clearly, had a much more abrasive approach to the situation.  
  


“Lighten their punishment,” Katsuki demanded, pausing slightly. His voice took on a slightly pleading undertone, although begging was far beneath him, “ _Please_.”  
  


Masaru shifted uncomfortably, clearly seeing something in Katsuki’s expression, since he was seemingly considering his proposition.  
  


“What did you have in mind?”  
  


“Ten public lashings in the courtyard, and the both of them being diminished to Sixes, rather than Threes.” Katsuki said, voice surprisingly strong despite a mix of nerves and illness.  
  


Masaru and Mitsuki shared a contemplative look, considering the idea. With the threat of war looming ahead, they needed to look _strong_ in the face of potential adversaries. Showing mercy on their citizens would have the opposite effect.  
  


Besides, the nation would definitely be calling for blood upon hearing this news. If they weren’t killed at the palace, they’d surely be killed by upset citizens who thought the lighter punishment was unfair the moment they leave.  
  


Katsuki, however, might not have realized this yet. He was their son, no matter how strained their family dynamic was. Mitsuki hadn’t heard her son say ‘ _please_ ’ in _years_.  
  


“Fifteen lashes, _each_ , and they’ll be lessened to _Eights_. Not just Sixes.” Mitsuki compromised, causing her son to sigh in obvious relief.  
  


“Deal.” He said, voice cracking slightly with barely concealed emotion. “. . . Thank you.”  
  


And with that, Katsuki left, leaving his stunned parents behind. They watched as the door clicked shut in unbridled shock, unaccustomed to this oddly subdued version of their son.  
  


Katsuki, however, broke down the minute he was alone. While this _did_ mean they weren’t going to be killed, it also meant they’d be reduced to Eights. If it weren’t for the fact that Katsuki trusted in Hitoshi’s ability to keep them on their feet, due to his former caste, he would’ve never agreed to these new terms.  
  


Huge, suffering sobs wracked Katsuki’s body. It was a known fact that he rarely ever cried, but _now_ —surely his tears were justified. It’d be strange if he _weren’t_ bawling his eyes out, right now, considering the situation.  
  


He’d grown close to both boys, even while not having known them that long. The Elite—who he’d been planning to announce soon—included _both_ of them.  
  


Katsuki had fallen fast for the cute blonde with the electric smile, and Denki had certainly had a shot at winning it all. At being his husband. His bond with Hitoshi had taken a little more time to develop, but Katsuki was sure there had been something there. Even if Katsuki didn’t see Hitoshi in that light, he’d considered him to be a really good friend.  
  


And this may be the last time he ever hears or sees from either of them ever again. The thought was overwhelming.  
  


Katsuki wasn’t sure how long he sat there—an hour, at least. He could hear footsteps approaching, although he didn’t bother looking up. He didn’t want whoever it was to see his red-rimmed eyes and barely dried tear-tracks shimmering dully against his red cheeks.  
  


“Are you crying?”  
  


Katsuki’s red eyes lift meekly to meet charcoal black. No doubt his eyes are swollen and red from all his sobbing.  
  


“No,” he lies blatantly.  
  


Aizawa sighs, taking a seat at Katsuki’s side forlornly.  
  


“For the past few weeks, I’ve been training both Hitoshi and Kaminari on what it takes to be a royal advisor in private.” He muttered, staring at the ground, expression indiscernible. “After I retired, I was planning to offer my position to them.”  
  


“And,” Katsuki’s voice cracked, so he cleared his throat before trying again. Aizawa waited patiently for him to say what he needed to. “And now you can’t . . .”  
  


Aizawa’s laugh was dry, and bitter, echoing emptily in the corridor. “Thanks for reminding me,” he said blankly. “’Zashi and I have always wanted kids, but couldn’t because we’re both guys. But—but those two were the closest to sons I’ll ever get.”  
  


Katsuki felt for him, deeply. He felt the strong urge to sob again, the thought of his image to uphold being the only thing preventing him from doing so.  
  


He felt deeply for the man—while Katsuki certainly didn’t have that sort of dynamic with Hitoshi and Denki, he did have a strong bond with them.  
  


“I understand what you’re going through, kid,” Aizawa said, voice gentler than Katsuki had ever heard it. “But you need to be strong right now. We all do.”  
  


“Yeah,” Katsuki amended, wiping stray tears away from his eyes. He tried to stand on shaky legs, nearly falling over. Luckily, Aizawa was right there to steady him, face stoic. When Katsuki looked deeper, he could see the sadness and fear pooling in his eyes, hidden behind years of practiced concealment.  
  


The older man led Katsuki along, to the courtyard, where most of the palace staff as well as some Selected were waiting. Most of the staff looked unfortunately grim, whereas the Selected looked mostly confused and a little spooked.  
  


At the center of it all stood two tall podiums with chains wrapped around, meant to hold someone in place. Meant to hold _Denki_ and _Hitoshi_ in place.  
  


The thought made Katsuki feeling like puking.  
  


Something must’ve shown on Katsuki’s face, because the Selected that were there looked even more anxious as he passed. Izuku latched onto his arm, viridian eyes searching his desperately.  
  


“Kacchan, what’s going on?” He asked, eyes flickering from Katsuki’s shaking form to the podiums in confusion and mild fear.  
  


“You’ll see,” Katsuki muttered, wrenching his arm free of Izuku’s desperate grasp. He trudged along solemnly to take a seat at his mother’s side, head gazing forlornly at the freshly trimmed grass lining the courtyard.  
  


The scenery was much too vibrant for what lay ahead. Soon, the green would be coated in a thin veil of red, and nothing would ever go back to the way it was before.  
  


When Katsuki looked back up, it was because they were announcing Denki and Hitoshi’s arrival. When his crimson eyes met fear-filled gold, that’s when he really did vomit up his meager dinner from the night before.

* * *

“Sir Kirishima,” Kanna said urgently, shaking Eijiro’s shoulders desperately. Eijiro glanced at the clock, noticing it was hardly past 4 a.m. “Get up, it’s urgent. You need to be outside in the courtyard, _now_.”  
  


Eijiro sat up, hazy crimson gaze directed at his unusually pale-faced maid.  
  


“Huh?”  
  


Kanna released a long-suffering sigh, grabbing Eijiro’s thick bicep in her hand and wrenching him from the bed forcefully, efficiently waking him up. She threw a robe and a pair of shoes at him briskly, ordering for him to put them on. Eijiro obeyed without question, following the girl out into the hall.  
  


“Kanna, what’s going on?” No response. “Kanna?”  
  


“I can’t tell you,” she said, voice painfully tight. She sounded as though she were seconds away from breaking down.  
  


Eijiro, ever the kind soul, pulled the girl into a one-armed hug, temporarily halting their movements. He didn’t say anything, only allowing the girl to relish in his comforting presence while she gathered her thoughts.  
  


She murmured her thanks, before leading Eijiro along at a slightly slower pace than before.  
  


Upon arrival, Eijiro had to admit he was confused. He was one of the last to arrive, but it would seem the others looked just as bewildered as he felt. The sight of the two chained up podiums left an uncomfortable feeling in his chest.  
  


A tall, lanky man stood by the podiums, holding a rod.  
  


_What the hell is going on?  
  
_

Soon, grim-faced man in the center began speaking, announcing the reasoning for them all being here. His words left Eijiro feeling even more anxious than before.  
  


“I’m sure a few of you are wondering what’s going on. Last night, during the New Year’s party, two members of the Selected were caught making out in a broom closet near the site of the party. The according punishment for these crimes is execution.”  
  


Eijiro’s heart sank as he processed the man’s words. “ _But_ due to the negotiations of our gracious Prince, Katsuki Bakugou, they’ll be sentenced to permanent life as Eights, and public flogging. Fifteen lashes, is the verdict.”  
  


The man turned to the side, towards the palace, expression grim. “Bring them out!” He called, turning back towards the crowd afterwards. “The names of these two men are Denki Kaminari and Hitoshi Shinso.”  
  


A gasp rang out through the crowd, thinking back to their accidental kiss during truth or dare. Had that really even been an accident, or could they just not help themselves? Either way, Eijiro never would’ve wanted _this_ for either of them.  
  


Denki is his _best friend_.  
  


At least he had some consolation in knowing Katsuki had fought to give them a lighter punishment. Eights were considered the lowest of the low, _less than human_ , but an Eight was better than dead, at the very least.  
  


How long would they realistically last out there, on their own?  
  


Eijiro couldn’t help his fretting, tears gushing from his crimson eyes like a leaky faucet. His shoulders heaved with silent sobs.  
  


Hanta and Mina weren’t faring much better. The latter had collapsed on the ground, screaming Denki’s name and sobbing wretchedly, struggling to pull in enough air to her lungs.  
  


Hanta was staring as Denki and Hitoshi were chained to the podiums, expression completely blank, eyes unseeing. He’d been like that ever since it’d been announced that the usual punishment was execution. Eijiro's own mind was so bogged up from the anxiety and fear that he probably wouldn’t be much help to them, no matter how much he wanted to reach out and comfort them.  
  


Another man, the one who’d accompanied both Denki and Hitoshi out, had a rod in his hand as well. The two stood talking together for a moment, discussing something that Eijiro couldn’t make out.  
  


From his awkward vantage point, Eijiro’s line of sight was directed at both of his friends’ backs. Denki turned his head around, golden eyes muddled with fear and despair. They met Eijiro’s briefly, before he turned back towards the podium, murmuring something to either himself, or Hitoshi.  
  


Mina threw up when the rods came down.  
  


Once.  
  


Twice.

On the third strike, Eijiro had slithered down on the ground at Mina’s side, moments away from losing any leftover food and stomach acid still roiling painfully in his gut. Red streaked painfully from Denki’s lower back, the skin mottled from only one strike. Hitoshi was blocked from view by the man who’d struck Denki, although Eijiro wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that he only had view of one of them.  
  


Hanta was still standing in the same position as before, eyes blank and emotionless. Eijiro grasped his hand tightly, although he received no response from his friend.  
  


Looking at it now, he glimpsed the sight of Hitoshi’s back. He wasn’t fairing much better than Denki in terms of injuries, although he was handling the excruciating pain a lot better.  
  


Denki looked to be on the verge of passing out by the eighth strike. No matter, he kept his hazy eyes open, words murmuring something unintelligible with each hit he took. Eijiro could vaguely make out the words “I love you.”  
  


All this time, despite his pain, he was still reminding Hitoshi how much he loved him.  
  


Eijiro’s heart cried out desperately for his best friend. He couldn’t watch this, couldn’t sit here and do _nothing_.  
  


“DENKI!”  
  


He screamed, pushing clear past a wall of guards who’d been standing there to keep the Selected in check. _They_ didn’t have to watch. They didn’t _understand_.  
  


Eijiro felt like he was floating, watching his body from afar as a gaggle of guards caught him, trying to drag him off the courtyard. Katsuki was watching him in a pained silence, blinking back tears.  
  


By the tenth strike, the guards had managed to subdue Eijiro and drag him off of the courtyard, presumably to bring him to his room.  
  


Denki finally passed out by the thirteenth strike, the words of his love dying on his lips as he succumbed to the sweet release of unconsciousness. When Hitoshi saw the blonde’s head loll drolly, he took up the mantra, reminding his unmoving partner of his love.  
  


It was all over on the fifteenth strike. Hitoshi’s vision swam, inky darkness threatening to overtake him. He kept his eyes stubbornly open, if only to make sure Denki was alright. Upon seeing the soft rise and fall of his love’s chest, he finally allowed his eyes to slip shut.

* * *

Shouta was a mess.  
  


He’d come to think of both Hitoshi and Denki as sons, and now _this_? What had he done to deserve losing both of them?  
  


The lone fact that they _weren’t dead_ soothed his anxieties, but how long would it last? How long until they were the unfortunate victims of some ruthless hate crime? How would they even survive from those kinds of injuries without treatment?  
  


Sitting there, watching them, did nothing to console his worries. He could see the fear, the pain, the _anguish_ written into every line of each of their faces. He saw them afterwards—their backs each a patchwork of mangled flesh and crimson.  
  


Shouta broke down the minute he and Hizashi returned to their room. Hizashi held him, clearly trying to hold back his own tears. Shouta truly appreciated the effort.  
  


At least he still had Hizashi. He’s not sure what he’d do if he had to lose him, too.  
  


“They’re not dead,” Hizashi reminded him, always focusing on the positives. “Don’t forget that.”  
  


Shouta knew that—he _did_ —but nothing could erase the memory of Denki falling limp against his chains, Hitoshi seconds away from doing the same.  
  


“I _know_ ,” Shouta cried, voice cracking. “It’s just not _fair_. Why should death be the penalty for love?”  
  


Hizashi looked at his husband, broken and sobbing on the floor, with despair. “I don’t know,” he muttered absently.  
  


“What if we—we should—we should _help them_.”  
  


Hizashi leaned back, eyes widening in surprise. “ _What_?”  
  


Air hissed out audibly between Shouta’s clenched teeth, anger palpable in his once somber expression. These were his _kids_. And he wasn’t going to give up on them, not in a million years.  
  


“Here’s what I was thinking.”

* * *

Funeral preparations were far under-way, the funeral itself looming a meager day away. Tenya rarely had any time to himself, anymore, although he didn’t mind. It distracted him enough from thinking about his brother, which was relieving.  
  


Mei had done a lot to help alleviate his stress, as well. A tentative romance had blossomed, although they’d never taken it very far. The timing was rotten, after all.  
  


Despite all these new developments in his life, Tenya found himself a moment of alone time. Intrusive thoughts flooded his mind the minute he sat down, the news of Tensei’s death playing over and over again on replay.  
  


Picking up the newspaper drolly, Tenya skimmed the articles, looking for something the peaked his interest. What he found instead left an empty feeling taking form snugly in his chest.  
  


While he’d never been particularly close with Denki, or Hitoshi, the news of their public flogging—apparently being broadcasted on different news channels all over Shizuoka—hit him _hard_. He was already emotionally vulnerable, due to his brother’s untimely passing.  
  


There was absolutely _no_ way they were surviving a beating like that without proper medical treatment. And, if what Tenya read was true, they were both to be reduced to Eights. Effective _immediately_.  
  


Tenya _had_ to help them.  
  


He was certain it couldn’t possibly get worse, but it _did_ , somehow. Because in the article it mentioned that the guard who found them had been tipped off by an anonymous member of the Selected.  
  


Meaning that one member of the Selected was willing to _kill_ in order to win.  
  


He needed to warn Izuku and Ochaco.

* * *

Eijiro woke up later that night, groggy and disoriented. He could hear the soft pattering of rain against his window, mixed in with the fuzzy hum of voices around him.  
  


“Aina?”  
  


He called out the name belonging to the first voice he recognized. The redheaded girl turned to face him, a frown on her lips.  
  


“Sir Kirishima, you’re awake,” she said softly, moving to his side.  
  


Eijiro sat up, rubbing his eyes with a yawn. He looked around, taking in his surroundings. The mood felt oddly . . . somber.  
  


“Yeah.” He replied shortly, squinting to avoid the light. “Uh, I guess I slept a long time, huh? I had the worst nightmare. It was about Denki . . .”  
  


Aina’s expression darkened, an odd mix between sympathy and despair. “It wasn’t a dream, Sir. Sir Kaminari and Sir Shinso have . . . already been sent away.” Her voice was barely above a whisper as Eijiro processed her words. “I’m sorry.”  
  


Eijiro broke down into terrible, heaving sobs. He cried, and screamed, and lost whatever meager belongings he had left of his stomach. His best friend was _gone_ , and Eijiro hadn’t even been strong enough to stick around ‘til the end.  
  


He wondered belatedly how the others were feeling. No doubt sick, or stressed. Probably like shit, if he knew them at all. He recalled Mina’s screams of secondhand agony beside of him, Hanta’s far off expression.  
  


When his head cleared, they were soon at the forefront of his mind. It distracted him from the inevitable pain, and loss, regardless.  
  


“How are,” he paused, clearing his throat, “how are the others doing?”  
  


Sachiko visibly flinched at the question, face portraying the fact that Eijiro probably wouldn’t like the answer. Kanna spoke up before his raven-haired maid even had the chance.  
  


“Most of them are pretty shaken up, bet relatively fine. Or, at least, they will be.” She said curtly, pausing briefly before continuing. “As for those closest to them—well, Lady Ashido’s been cooped up in her room all evening. Sir Sero is completely unresponsive. Lady Jiro has been really on edge, lately. Her maids mentioned that she's been snapping at people over insignificant matters. They were the most affected, other than you, so I’ve heard.”  
  


Eijiro nodded dully, sluggishly processing the words. His friends weren’t okay, and at any other time, he’d rush to their side to comfort them.  
  


But, right now, he needed to be comforted, too.

* * *

The most Mina had done in the past several hours was blink haplessly at the wall, and lie in bed dejectedly. She felt a dull pull in her gut, reminding her that using the bathroom was a thing, but otherwise ignored the urge. So what’s a few hours without the restroom?  
  


That wasn’t what mattered to her right now, anyways.  
  


Denki’s tortured screams echoed throughout her head like some twisted mantra. The sight of Hitoshi’s dull eyes, and pale lips speaking those soft words of comfort to his unmoving partner. The blood staining the once luscious grass, and the patchwork of crimson marring their mangled backs.  
  


It was all _too much_.  
  


Her maids had come to visit her multiple times throughout the day, offering food, or water. She soundly refused, voice dry and cracked from dehydration and disuse. All that crying and vomiting had really taken a lot out of her.  
  


The thought of her friend hanging limp against his chains took a lot out of her, too.  
  


She saw the cameras all around, the press there to catch a good shot of what was happening. No doubt their public lashing would soon be broadcasted over a multitude of news channels, for everyone to see. As if this were some _game_ , rather than life or death.  
  


Denki and Hitoshi are still _people_. And, yet, there had been people standing in the crowd amongst her—whether it be cameramen or royal staff—that had been _cheering_.  
  


How could people be so _cruel_?  
  


If she won, _this_ is the nation she would be ruling. And if she were Queen, there’d be a lot to change. To _fix_.  
  


Starting with getting her friend’s back.  
  


Her main consolation was that Katsuki had stood up for them. They’d be flat out dead right now if not for him—and for that, she _was_ grateful.  
  


Despite her immense gratitude, Mina couldn’t help but feel down, regardless. They’d both had to be in pain, for so long. And for _what_? Being in love?  
  


Was love really a crime that deserved the capital punishment?  
  


Some changes would _definitely_ be made if she were in control, and there was no doubt in her mind that Katsuki would side with her. He was prickly on the surface, but he was a caring man deep down. He’d saved their lives, after all.  
  


Mina was already in love with Katsuki, and madly. She was going to make good on her promise to Hanako—and end this with a ring on her finger. Like she’d _said_ she would. Her love and admiration for Katsuki was enough to give her the conviction to want to win, but with this now in mind—  
  


She _needed_ to win. In order to save her friend’s.

* * *

Hanta felt strange, like he was floating. Everything passed through his mind in an odd haze. He could hear the warm hum of voices around him, but his ears were ringing too much for him to make out what they were saying.  
  


He couldn’t think—didn’t really know what was happening. What had happened?  
  


The voices faded into the wind, leaving him alone with nothing but the incessant ringing in his ears. He tried to move, to lie down, but his limbs were unresponsive. The most he could manage was a slight twitch of his fingers.  
  


Where was he? Hanta could vaguely remember having been outside, but—no. It was too soft where he was for this to be grass—a couch, maybe? Was in the parlor, with the others? Maybe they could help them.  
  


If only he could speak. Reach out to them.  
  


But no one was there.  
  


And then there _was,_ a voice—a low, humming rhythm ringing soothingly in Hanta’s ears. He felt hands on his shoulders, gripping him tightly, grounding him.  
  


He tried to reach out towards the voice, but his hands wouldn’t _listen_. A frustrated growl pushed its way past his lips.  
  


The room dimmed, although Hanta could barely register the change. His mind was so cloudy, held back by an unknown fog.  
  


The voice was shifting him, laying him gently on his back, and a weight fell over Hanta. The fog cleared away slightly, enough for him to make out the sight of long, scruffy black hair.  
  


“. . . Aizawa?”  
  


The word stung as it climbed it's way out of his raw throat. The man in question nodded, the barest hints of a smile tugging at his lips. Hanta’s expression remained an odd mix between mild confusion and neutrality.  
  


“Wha’ h’ppen?” He slurred drily, squinting his eyes to better make out his surroundings.  
  


He was in his room—at least he was _pretty sure_ he was. The lights were off, and there was a blanket on top of him—a fairly heavy one, at that.  
  


“I’ll tell you later, when you’re feeling better.” Aizawa’s gruff voice replied, and Hanta felt himself nodding, eyes slipping shut against his will. Sleep tugged harshly on the edge of his consciousness. “Get some rest, kid, you look like shit.”  
  


Hanta huffed out a dry laugh despite himself, black creeping in threateningly at the edges of his vision.  
  


“. . . Thank you,” he muttered thickly.  
  


He was asleep before Aizawa had even had the chance to respond. The older man smiled softly to himself, ruffling the kid’s hair gently. He was glad Hanta was out of it enough not to notice his swollen, red-rimmed eyes, or the clear tension in his shoulders.  
  


They’d all been through a lot, and it was a small miracle that Hanta didn’t seem to remember any of it. For now. They’d have to tell him what happened, eventually—there’s no way they could manage to keep something this big from him.  
  


For now, he was content to just let the kid sleep.

* * *

Kyoka wasn’t sure what to make of the odd mix of emotions swirling uncomfortably in her chest. For the most part, she interpreted as anger.  
  


With each yell, or scream, or curse, she felt a twinge of regret. But the satisfaction overwhelmed her remorse, and Kyoka couldn’t help feeling, somehow, _better_. A part of her understood that taking out her pain and anger on others wasn’t the best way to solve her problems, but it sure as hell felt good.  
  


Not so good after learning she’d apparently made one of her maid’s cry.

Afterwards, she’d asked them all to keep their distance. Kyoka could feel the anger bubbling up inside her throat painfully, begging for release. She clenched her fists so hard they bled, and screamed fruitlessly into her pillow.  
  


Soon, her screams turned to sobs. A minute smattering of blood coated her pillows, from where she’d cut her palms. The sight of it made her sick. All she could think about was Denki—his back torn open and mangled, coated in blood, blood, _so much blood_.  
  


Kyoka couldn’t _breathe_.  
  


She was trying, but despite her best efforts, Kyoka just wasn’t able to get any air into her lungs. She sobbed, and heaved, and screamed. Her chest constricted, tightening painfully as she tried to suck in a breath to no avail.  
  


Warm hands found their way onto her shoulders, grasping her firmly, grounding her. A soft voice spoke, although Kyoka’s mind was too fuzzy to understand.  
  


But she’d know that voice _anywhere_.  
  


“Y-Yaomomo,” she gasped, tears stinging painfully against her eyes. “H-H-He’s _gone_.”  
  


That very same warmth enveloped her as Momo wrapped her arms around Kyoka, pulling the smaller girl tightly against her chest in a comforting manner. Kyoka calmed down, if only a bit, her breathing still erratic.  
  


Momo had only come in to see if Kyoka had needed company after what had happened—her being alone probably wasn’t doing herself any favors. Instead, she’d walked in to find her friend midway through an intense panic attack.  
  


“Shh, it’s gonna be okay,” Momo reassured in what she hoped was a soothing tone. Kyoka leaned into the hug, clutching at Momo desperately. Momo, in response, combed her fingers tentatively through Kyoka’s violet hair, working the kinks and knots out of it. “I’m here, now, Kyoka, it’s all gonna be okay. You want to talk about it?”  
  


“ _Yes_ ,” Kyoka sobbed, grip tightening, approaching painful. Momo didn’t say a word, only waiting for Kyoka to continue.  
  


“It’s just—he is— _was?_ —my _best friend_. I can’t—I don’t—Yaomomo, I _don’t know what to do_!” She shouted, crumpling in on herself pitifully. “E-Eve-en though w-we always p-p-picked on each other, he w-was like _family_ to m-m-me. Yaomomo, he w-was my _brother_.”  
  


Kyoka sniffled, form falling limp against Momo’s as all the energy seemed to drain from her body.  
  


“Yaomomo, _I want him back_ ,” she whimpered pitifully.

* * *

A persistent knock pounded against Katsuki’s locked door. The blonde was sorely tempted to ignore it.  
  


Alas, whoever it was wouldn’t relent. They continued knocking relentlessly, until Katsuki was practically forced to respond, if only to get them to stop.  
  


He was fully prepared to tell whoever the hell had the audacity to disturb him _right. Fucking. Now._ Of _all_ times—to go fuck themselves slowly with a chainsaw.  
  


That was, of course, until he saw Eijiro’s tearstained face and devastated expression. How could he ever say no to those eyes?  
  


“Sorry,” Eijiro’s broken voice muttered unnecessarily. “I get you’re going through a lot, right now—we all are—but, I just, uh. I didn’t want to be, um, _alone_.”  
  


Eijiro’s voice cracked on the word ‘ _alone_ ’, the waterworks soon coming into play. Katsuki held Eijiro as he cried, tears of his own leaking emptily from his crimson eyes.  
  


They lied there together, sobbing uncontrollably and clinging desperately to one another’s presence.  
  


Being alone just didn’t feel _okay_ right now.

* * *

Distantly, in a dark alley, a tall man watched the rise and fall of his love’s chest anxiously, checking his healing process. Hitoshi’s own hadn’t been going good—the wounds were already infected, and Denki’s were on the way, as well.  
  


Hitoshi leapt up at the sound of shuffling behind him, fully prepared to defend him and Denki if need-be. He decidedly ignored the insistent throbbing in his back.  
  


“I’m not gonna hurtcha, kid.”  
  


Hitoshi immediately lowered his defenses, recognizing the voice right away.  
  


“What the hell are you _doing_ here?” He questioned incredulously, pain forgotten in his moment of shock.  
  


The man in question grinned, a rare expression to see on his usually stoic face.  
  


“What else, kid? I’m saving you two.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hated myself for writing this chapter.
> 
> Well, here's the list of the 16 remaining Selected, plus their original caste;  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> On a lighter note, I'm kinda freaking out (in a good way) cuz my word document for this is now over 400 pages. The most I've written for a book/fic before has been about 130 pages, so this is kinda crazy to me??
> 
> Next chapter will be out on Friday. The funeral is coming up next, as well as the aftermath of what happened in this chapter. Someone still has to tell Sero what happened...
> 
> The chapter after next is when the EIGHT Elite will be announced. I said there was gonna be ten originally, but at the time I was still debating whether or not I was going to go through with doing this. So.. yeah, only eight.
> 
> 'til then


	32. A Homicidal Todoroki? More Likely Than You Thought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bakusquad is big sad (I am too :<), Tenya misses his big brother, and Aizawa is a good fucking dad ( you cant change my mind).
> 
> Enjoy

“How are you feeling, Keigo?”  
  


Dabi was at Keigo’s side, hand held tentatively in his. Recovery Girl had prescribed the both of them with antibiotics, and firmly reminded them that, under _no_ circumstances, were they to partake in intercourse for at _least_ a seven day period. So far, the blonde had noticed vast improvement. Dabi, being asymptomatic, hadn’t noticed any viable change.  
  


“Better,” Keigo described. He shifted over on the bed a little, patting the now empty space. “Come sit.”  
  


Dabi sighed, but obliged all the same. He wrapped his arms around Keigo in an intimately protective gesture, pulling the smaller blonde towards his chest. Keigo snuggled his face into the curve of Dabi’s neck, tickling the exposed skin with his warm breath.  
  


Within moments, Dabi felt Keigo’s breathing even out as he succumbed to sleep. Combing his hand through his hair, Dabi looked down at Keigo’s relaxed expression.  
  


He’d been high-strung since what took place yesterday—everyone was. Dabi heard some members of the Selected had taken up their offered therapy sessions with Ryo Inui. Keigo had shown up at Dabi’s door the night before, claiming nightmares kept him from being able to sleep. Without a word, Dabi had open his door further and silently requested Keigo come sleep with him.  
  


He figured things were gonna be like that for a while, after the events taking place the prior day. For _everyone_.

* * *

“Thanks for letting me tag along,” Shoto muttered, voice uncharacteristically meek.  
  


Ochaco nodded tiredly, too exhausted to properly respond. She’d hardly slept the night before, and had been planning to doze on the way to Tenya’s village. And yet, every time she shut her eyes, images and memories of Denki and Hitoshi flooded her mind.  
  


Izuku, luckily, passed out nearly the minute they all entered the carriage. He’d promptly slumped over on Shoto’s shoulder, asleep within seconds. Shoto, being the kind soul he is, decided not to comment on or wake the boy sleeping peacefully on his left shoulder. Heaven knows Izuku needs it, as do they all.  
  


Ochaco can say, without a doubt, that Izuku and Tenya were her best friends. Shoto, on the other hand, was still her friend, but she’d never been able to get a proper read on him. He was always able to open up so fluidly around Izuku—Ochaco had _seen_ it, no doubt—but kept his cold and quiet demeanor around her. Or anyone else, for that matter.  
  


Even _Katsuki_.  
  


She could only guess as to reasons why, and Ochaco had been slowly working to put the pieces together in her mind. His scar was a mystery, and one he’d never relented the information to. He talked of his mother in the past tense, most likely meaning she had passed away. And he _always_ spoke of his father in a bitter or angry tone, indicating a tense relationship between the two.  
  


Even with a fairly good grasp of what Shoto might be dealing with, Ochaco wasn’t sure how to go about actually helping him. No matter, it was her duty as his friend to at least _try_.  
  


If only she knew _how_.  
  


“So, uh, how’d you get your scar?”  
  


Yeah, that was definitely _not_ what she had meant to say. Clamping a hand firmly over her mouth to discontinue any further personal or stupid questions she may ask, Ochaco shifted her gaze.  
  


“. . . My mother,” Shoto muttered sadly, eyes diverted. Ochaco audibly gasped, looking to her friend in shock. Shoto seemingly picked up on her confusion, elaborating further, “We’re friends, aren’t we? I’ll admit I’ve only ever told one person outside of my family, but . . . I feel comfortable talking to you. So . . . what would you like to know about me, and my past?”  
  


Ochaco stared for a moment more, gaping haplessly like a fish. “Everything,” she whispered as her wits came back about her.  
  


And so, Shoto talked.  
  


He talked about his caging childhood with his overbearing and abusive father, and his mother who was always crying. His siblings who he hardly knew, and the one who ran away after a debilitating house fire. He told Ochaco about his mother being driven to insanity by his father’s abuse, about her pouring boiling water over his the left side of his face.  
  


As he spoke, neither Shoto nor Ochaco paid any mind to the driver sitting silently at the front, listening intently to every word being said.

* * *

Waking up at Eijiro’s side was starting to become a fairly regular occurrence for Katsuki. He had to admit—it was a nice feeling. Waking up to the sight of unnaturally sharp teeth and soft red hair was something Katsuki was growing fond of—Akira yelling for them to wake up, admittedly less so.  
  


“If you don’t shut the fuck up right now I _will_ obliterate your fucking kneecaps,” Katsuki grumbled lowly, glaring harshly at the sight of his smirking best friend.  
  


It was hard to look properly intimidating with an adorable redhead wrapped around your body protectively, but Katsuki was sure he was pulling it off regardless. Akira, on the other hand, didn’t seem all that convinced.  
  


“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she replied teasingly, turning the light on like the annoying prat she was. Light flooded the room in an instant, forcing Katsuki to close his eyes to block out the harsh fluorescent lighting. “Wakey, wakey, ‘Suki. You can snuggle with him later.”  
  


“I do not _snuggle_ ,” Katsuki protested. He huffed, disentangling his limbs carefully from Eijiro’s, before removing himself from the bed entirely. “I’m fucking awake, asshat. Happy?”  
  


Akira positively _beamed_. “Ecstatic,” she replied. Akira shuffled off, annoying grin still plastered permanently on her face, right into Katsuki’s closet. She soon proceeded to dig through his clothes, trying to decide on an outfit for today. Preferably something appropriate for the current mood. “Is all black okay?”  
  


She could hear a grunt sounding from the other room, which Akira took to mean as a yes. Pulling out an appropriate black suit and tie, she returned dutifully to her best friend’s side.  
  


“Here,” she said, passing him the clothes. Katsuki immediately began to change, forcing Akira to hastily divert her eyes. “Are you gonna wake him up?”  
  


A long pause filled the room with silence as Katsuki pondered the question, no doubt staring at Eijiro in contemplation as he thought.  
  


“No,” he decided, voice uncharacteristically worn. “I’m gonna let him sleep. He’s probably gonna need it.”  
  


Akira agreed. After what had taken place the day before, everyone was in a rather foul mood. A few of the Selected had even accepted the offer of therapy for the time being to discuss what took place yesterday. Akira had been planning to talk to Eijiro about the matter whenever he woke up.  
  


“I don’t blame you,” she whispered softly, chancing a glance at the peacefully sleeping redhead. “Dinner will be sent up in an hour. You can wake him up then.”  
  


Katsuki nodded wordlessly, staring at Eijiro wordlessly as he processed whatever was going on in his head. Akira, feeling it was best to give the two some space, slipped out of her friend’s bedroom without a sound.  
  


Katsuki broke down the moment she left.

* * *

Kyoka woke up feeling warm. She was clinging to something oddly firm—too solid to be a pillow. Flitting her eyes open minutely, she tried to gauge what it was she was undeniably cuddling with.  
  


Her heart skipped a beat in her chest as her eyes processed the form of Momo Yaoyorozu. Asleep. In Kyoka’s bed. In Kyoka’s _arms_.  
  


 _Shit_.  
  


Kyoka scrambled away hurriedly, embarrassment flaring up in her cheeks wildly, staining them a dark red color. Momo seemed completely unaware to Kyoka’s internal dilemma, merely whining meekly and shifting under the covers. Under _Kyoka’s_ covers.  
  


“Uh, Yaomomo?” Kyoka tried, voice cracking slightly. “Yaomomo!”  
  


The raven-haired girl startled awake, blinking tiredly in the direction of Kyoka’s voice. Kyoka’s breath hitched slightly at the sight, heart nearly beating right out of her chest.  
  


“Eh?” Momo asked drearily, voice slurred by the after-effects of sleep. “Kyo? Is tha’ you?”  
  


Kyoka blushed at the nickname, but otherwise didn’t react besides bringing herself slowly to her feet and approaching the bed. “Uh, yeah, it is, Yaomomo. You passed out in my room—which I, uh, totally don’t mind!”  
  


Momo’s face soon matched Kyoka’s in color, as the realization that she spent the night with Kyoka by accident sunk in. She cleared her throat awkwardly, diverting her gaze to the wall directly behind Kyoka’s head.  
  


“Sorry! I hadn’t meant to . . .” Momo trailed off, an awkward silence hanging thick in the air.  
  


“Its fine,” Kyoka reminded her, realizing she’d left the girl hanging. “It’s, uh, it’s cool. No need to apologize.”  
  


Kyoka winced at her own awkwardness—any and all common sense seemed to fly right out the window whenever she was in Momo’s presence. As for the reason why, Kyoka couldn’t fathom.  
  


“Thanks, Kyoka,” Momo said, offering the violet-haired girl a soft-smile. Kyoka didn’t think her heart could honestly take much more of this. “What time is it?”  
  


Kyoka glanced quickly at the clock, noting the time. “It’s 9:15—we have less than half an hour ‘til breakfast. Think we’re gonna have to go to the Great Hall?”  
  


The thought of having to be around even _more_ people left an uncomfortable feeling roiling in Kyoka’s stomach.  
  


“I hope not,” she replied earnestly, grimacing at the thought. “I don’t really feel like being social, right now.”  
  


Momo sighed, the smile dropping from her expression. “I understand,” she said softly, eyes downcast. “Do you want me to stay? Or do you need to be alone right now?”  
  


Kyoka, in lieu of answer, stood up and crawled back into bed, curling up at Momo’s side. In response, Momo wrapped a hesitant arm around the smaller girl, pulling Kyoka in closer to her chest.  
  


They fell asleep like that, the nightmares being chased away by each other’s mere presence.

* * *

“Tenya! Hey!”  
  


Ochaco rushed to greet her best friend, leaping into his arms to hug him in her excitement. Tenya laughed heartily, stumbling slightly but overall managing to catch her.  
  


“Ochaco, it’s good to see you,” he replied politely, smiling softly. His grin was tired, and the light in his eyes had dimmed ever-so-slightly—most likely due to grief—but he was still Tenya. “Izuku, Todoroki, you both as well! Come in, please.”  
  


Tenya guided them inside his home, where they’d be staying the night. It was large—much larger than either Ochaco or Izuku had ever been used to. The two, stood side-by-side, gaped openly at the mansion-sized home. Shoto seemed perfectly at ease, probably having grown up in a house of the same caliber.  
  


“Make yourselves at home!” Tenya said warmly, ignorant of Ochaco and Izuku’s shock at the sheer size of his family home. “The butlers will bring your things up to the rooms you’ll be staying in. Mei has been visiting here an awful lot, as well—we’re, ah, ‘ _official_ ’ now.”  
  


Ochaco gasped, clapping her hands together excitedly. “Congrats! I know,” she paused, collecting her thoughts momentarily. “I know things have been really hard on you, lately. I’m glad at least one good thing came of this trip home.”  
  


Tenya smiled earnestly, pulling Ochaco into a teary-eyed side hug. Izuku found himself joining in at a moment’s notice, dragging Shoto into the group hug along behind them.  
  


“Thank you all,” Tenya told them, voice choked up from indiscernible emotion. “You guys just being here means _so_ much. I’m lucky to have met you three.”  
  


Izuku promptly burst out in tears, having been fighting to hold back the waterworks for most of their discussion. Tenya freaked out, trying to console his sobbing friend.  
  


“What did I do?!” He asked, panicked. “Was it something I said?”  
  


“I-I-It—” Another sob tore from Izuku’s throat, interrupting his barely formed sentence. “Y-You’re too k-k-kind, Tenya!”  
  


Shoto pat his friend’s back awkwardly, and Tenya pulled the small greenette into another bear-hug, causing the boy to only sob harder.  
  


“Th-they’re happy t-tears!” Izuku promised, wiping tears fruitlessly away from his viridian eyes. “D-don’t worry ‘bout me!”  
  


Ochaco hooked an arm around Tenya’s neck, smiling fondly. “Oh, you know Tenya, he’s always worrying!” She teased, cuing an indignant scoff from her much taller friend.  
  


Shoto tuned out their bickering, focusing instead on his teary-eyed friend. “Are you sure you’re alright, Izuku?”  
  


Izuku offered him a watery smile, nodding his head firmly. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he promised. “I just never expected to have friends as amazing as you guys.”  
  


Shoto stared fondly at Ochaco and Tenya squabbling fondly. He then directed his gaze towards Izuku, an intensely warm feeling springing up incessantly in his chest at the sight of the shorter boy.  
  


“Yeah,” Shoto agreed softly, eyes focused intently on the freckled boy. “Me either.”

* * *

“Rise and shine, sleepy head.”  
  


Hanta blearily blinked his eyes open, gaze focusing on orange hair and sea-green eyes. He started, wondering what the girl was doing in his room.  
  


“Uh, Kendo?” He asked, voice laced with tiredness. The girl in question blinked quizzically at him, tilting her head slightly in mild confusion. “What are you doing in my room?”  
  


She jolted, seemingly remembering where she was. “Oh! Uh, yeah, there’s something I need to talk to you about?” Kendo gulped, shifting her eyes away from his deliberately. “What do you remember of yesterday?”  
  


Hanta thought about the haze that had clouded his mind and judgement for most of the day, blocking out any and all painful memories. Apparently, there were a _lot_ , since he didn’t remember basically anything past yesterday morning.  
  


If he _really_ focused, he could make out the shimmering green shade of grass, indicating he’d been outside at some point. The color gold flashed insistently in his mind, as well, reminding him of Denki.  
  


“Um, I think I was outside?” He said, although it came out as more of a question. Kendo nodded. “And, um, maybe something to do with Denki?”  
  


Kendo winced at the blonde’s name, causing fear to course painfully in Hanta’s chest. What happened to Denki?  
  


“Both of those are true,” she said meekly, rubbing her hands over her eyes. “Kaminari, and Shinso, were caught making out.”  
  


Hanta’s heart skipped a beat.  
  


The punishment for that was . . .  
  


“ _No_ ,” he gasped out, feeling his body shut down as he processed the news. “He can’t . . .”  
  


“Hey!” Kendo said sternly, snapping her fingers in front of his eyes to draw Hanta’s attention. “No, none of that. They’re not dead.”  
  


An audible sigh of relief escaped Hanta’s lips, and his body sagged down in his bed. Just the thought of losing his best friend hurt too much to even think about.  
  


“But—” Hanta didn’t think he was gonna like this ‘ _but_ ’, “they were sentenced to a public lashing. While, yes, they’re both alive, they’ve been reduced to Eights. There’s . . . a low chance you’ll probably hear, or see from them again. The location they’ve been sent to within Shizuoka has not been disclosed to the public.”  
  


Hanta could feel the insistent numbness purging over his mind like mold growing in a damp area. Tears prickled at his eyes as yesterday’s memories flooded his mind.  
  


He tried in vain to block off the unwanted remembrances—Denki’s pale, scared face, uttering those sweet words of comfort to his beloved. He recalled Hitoshi’s distressed expression upon seeing his partner hanging limp in his shackles, soon taking up the mantra that Denki had been speaking for the entirety of their punishment—it was a rather bittersweet fate, for the two.  
  


Even if their worst hour, all they could think to remind each other of was how much they loved one another.  
  


Tears poured incessantly from Hanta’s eyes like a leaky faucet, and they didn’t stop coming for a _long_ time.

* * *

Mina was surprised she had been able to get as much sleep as she did. Her maids had been working double-time to nurse her back to good health, but nothing they did seemed to help. They didn’t understand—it wasn’t a physical issue. This was something only someone like Ryo Inui would be able to help with, which is why she accepted—albeit reluctantly—the offer of temporary therapy sessions with the man.  
  


Currently, though, she didn’t really feel strong enough to leave her bed, much less her room. Seeing anyone other than either Denki or Hitoshi sounded nearly impossible as she was right now.  
  


She craved Denki’s hugs, and his soft, teasing smiles. She missed Hitoshi’s lilting tone and uninterested exterior.  
  


Why did it have to be _them_?  
  


They were good people—the _best_ people. Two young men in love, despite the odds. All they’d wanted was to be happy, and in return they’d nearly been killed.  
  


Mina felt herself tearing up at the unfairness of it all.  
  


She really, _really_ missed her friends.

* * *

The funeral ceremony had been beautifully done. Tenya was sure Tensei would’ve approved, if he had been here. That thought alone helped console his grievous state, if only a little.  
  


Having all of his friends at his side—as well as his girlfriend, although the thought was still a little hard to comprehend—helped tremendously. He’d broken down all of six times during the funeral, but each time someone was there to help him. Whether it be Ochaco, with her soothing air, or Izuku, with his kind smiles, or Mei, with her charismatic outlook, or even Shoto, surprisingly enough, who always seemed to simply _understand_.  
  


Tenya wasn’t entirely sure if he’d have been able to make it through these trying times without them all by his side. He wasn’t sure how to even begin expressing his gratitude for their presence in his life.  
  


Tensei’s ashes were being placed somewhere originally intent for his parent’s ashes. It stung to think about—Tensei was meant to live _longer_ than them.  
  


But he didn’t.  
  


The thought started a fresh wave of intense tears, but Izuku was at Tenya’s side in an instant, wrapping him up in a tight hug and reassuring him in soft, gentle tones. Tenya clung to the smaller boy desperately, seeking comfort that Izuku willingly provided.  
  


As the feelings of despair slowly washed away, Tenya found himself feeling undeniably empty. He sagged wearily in Izuku’s arms, leaning a good portion of his body weight against the greenette. Izuku, being the saint he is, hooked one arm around Tenya’s waist and half-carried, half-dragged Tenya over and onto the couch.  
  


“You could use some rest,” Izuku said, tone soft. Tenya shook his head fervently, sighing deeply. “No?”  
  


“No,” Tenya agreed, shaking his head again. “I don’t think I could properly sleep right now.”  
  


He could feel a warm hand combing gentle fingers through his hair, and he leaned instinctually into the touch.  
  


“We’re all right here,” Mei cooed gently into his ear. “If anything happens, we’ll be here to help you.”  
  


With that thought in mind, Tenya felt a soft smile slipping slowly onto his expression as his mind drifted off into the faraway land of sleep.

* * *

The Selected’s parlor was uncharacteristically quiet. Shouta had come to check if anyone had come more out of duty than true want, but was relieved upon finding no one inside. So long as he checked consistently throughout the day, he was left mostly to his own devices.  
  


His impromptu meeting with Denki and Hitoshi the night before had gone well—or, as well as it could have.  
  


 _“What the hell are you_ doing _here?” Hitoshi had asked, shock flitting momentarily across his formerly pained expression.  
  
_

_Shouta grinned, an unusual expression to see on his usual placid face.  
  
_

_“What else, kid? I’m saving you two.” Shouta replied cheekily, getting down on his knees at Hitoshi’s side and pulling the pack off of his back. “I have medical supplies for your back. You won’t last much longer without.”  
  
_

_Hitoshi seemed on the verge of retorting, but one glance at Denki had him nodding along. He jutted his chin in Denki’s direction, violet eyes cold as stones.  
  
_

_“Him first,” he demanded firmly, leaving no room for argument.  
  
_

_Shouta put his hands up in a placating gesture, moving towards the unconscious blonde and taking supplies from his pack quietly.  
  
_

_“It’s not infected yet, which is good,” Shouta commented lightly, wiping his hands off with a wash cloth to make sure they’re clean. With gauze, he pressed down firmly over the multitude of wounds, trying to staunch the bleeding. “Both of you are gonna need stitches, no doubt. I can apply stitches, but it’s not gonna be pretty.”  
  
_

_“I don’t care if it’s pretty,” Hitoshi grunted, taking up a pack of gauze and helping to stop the flow of blood dripping lazily from Denki’s open wounds. “As long as he survives.”  
  
_

_Shouta gave him a look. “I’m gonna make sure you survive, too, kid, ya hear me?” Hitoshi nodded briefly, hardly glancing in his direction.  
  
_

_Once the wound stopped bleeding, Shouta carefully cleaned it, feeling Denki wince and shift in pain beneath his fingers. The mangled skin pulled taut as the blonde tensed, and Hitoshi worked quietly to calm Denki down, so Shouta wouldn’t end up making it worse.  
  
_

_Denki woke up mid-way through Shouta applying the stitches, eyes alight with pain. Hitoshi combed fingers through his mussed up blonde hair, and stuffed a wash cloth in his mouth to muffle the boy’s screams.  
  
_

_Once he was finished, he dressed the wound with a multitude of bandages covering the entirety of his chest and back. Shouta sighed, looking wearily at Hitoshi before patting the space in front of him.  
  
_

_“Alright, kid, your turn.”  
  
_

Shouta had left them with plenty of supplies to keep the wounds clean for the time being, and promised his eventual return. He wasn’t sure when he’d have time to visit the pair next, but he only hoped it would be soon. Shouta wasn’t sure how long he could wait before needing to see them again.

* * *

“Oh! Good, you’re awake,” Ochaco said, smiling tiredly at Tenya, who in return blinked the sleep from his eyes as he slowly processed her words. “Have any nightmares?”  
  


Tenya’s mind worked slowly to process the question and think up an answer. “No,” he replied eventually, although his answer seemed to make Ochaco happy.  
  


“Good,” she said softly, patting his hand fondly.  
  


Soon, another voice joined the mix. “You hungry, Ochaco? Tenya’s mother made soup.” Tenya recognized that voice of belonging to Izuku. “Oh, Tenya, you’re awake! Want some soup?”  
  


“Uh, yeah,” Tenya replied, smiling wearily. “That’d be nice.”  
  


Izuku rushed off to get him a bowl, and Ochaco shifted so she was sitting by his side.  
  


“You okay, Tenya?” She asked softly.  
  


Tenya heard more than saw as another figure entered the room and sat on his other side—Mei. “Yes,” he replied, nodding curtly. “I’m perfectly fine. Although, there is something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you, Midoriya and Todoroki.”  
  


Ochaco furrowed her eyebrows, thinking over what he might want to say. Once Izuku and Shoto returned, soup in hand, and they were all settled, Tenya began to speak.  
  


“I saw the article about . . .” He hesitated, biting his lip. Judging by the shift in mood, the others already knew what he was referring to. “In the article, they mentioned the guard who found them had been tipped off by another member of the Selected.”  
  


Shoto stood, a fire burning dangerously in his mismatched eyes. “So you’re saying that happened to them because of one of the _Selected_?” He asked, tone low and dangerous.  
  


Tenya nodded his head solemnly.  
  


“Well,” Shoto said mildly, the fire in his eyes morphing into a raging inferno. “I believe that it has come time for me to commit homicide. There are plenty of windows in the palace—think I can play it off as an accident?”  
  


“Shoto, _no_ ,” Izuku whined, sounding slightly exasperated at his friend’s antics.  
  


“Shoto, _yes_ ,” he retorted. “Kill or be killed. _Survival of the fittest._ ”  
  


Ochaco scoffed. “Excuse you,” she said distastefully. “You are _not_ killing anyone without me at your side.”  
  


Tenya gaped openly. His friends were going to give an aneurysm if they kept up with these antics.  
  


“ _No one_ is committing any murder of _any_ kind,” Tenya reprimanded.  
  


“I can help hide the body!” Mei chipped in.  
  


“Mei!” Tenya scolded mildly.  
  


“We could play it off as a suicide, like they did in ‘ _Heathers_ ’,” Izuku said thoughtfully.  
  


“Izuku!” Tenya admonished, voice taking on a slightly delirious tone. “You all will be the death of me.”  
  


He flopped dramatically against the couch, a fit of giggles rising up from around him. Ochaco was the first to take pity on him, taking a seat at his side and patting his shoulder apologetically.  
  


“In all seriousness—this _does_ mean we need to watch our step. We were all told the penalty for cheating, so whoever did this ratted them out with the intent to kill,” Ochaco reminded them, tone taking a serious edge.  
  


“Yeah,” Shoto agreed quietly, voice laced with anger. “We have each other’s backs, at least. And if we figure out who it was that told the guard, we’ll know who to be wary of.”  
  


Izuku nodded solemnly. “We should all keep an eye out.”

* * *

Satoshi gingerly took a seat across from the man, glancing at him warily.  
  


“I did what you asked me to,” he stated nervously, shifting uncomfortably under the other man’s scrutinizing gaze.  
  


“And? Did you learn anything useful for me, Iwamoto?” He asked, voice low and unassuming. His eyes held a fire that didn’t match the nonchalant tone of his voice.  
  


Satoshi audibly gulped, diverting his meek gaze away from the intense fire alight in the other’s pale gray.  
  


“Yes,” he murmured, looking up to meet the man’s triumphant smirk. “Something about Shoto Todoroki, actually.”  
  


The man leaned forwards, cruel smirk tugging ruefully at his lips. His silver eyes shone dangerously in the dim lighting, reflecting the moon’s pale light.  
  


“Go on,” he prompted, smirk widening.  
  


And so, with a deep breath, Satoshi leaned back in his seat and told the man _everything_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a doctor, nor have any medical experience. I used google for the scene with dadzawa, hito and kami. If the treatment for Denki was inaccurate feel free to let me know.
> 
> Idk how to treat STD's either, literally don't take my word for any medical knowledge used in any of my chapters at any time. I used google for all of it lmao
> 
> The whole bakusquad is sad and it makes me sad too :<
> 
> I meant for this to be a lighthearted fic with mild drama on the side regarding Shigaraki and Monoma. Not really sure when that shit went out the window but h e r e w e a r e
> 
> Here's the list of the remaining 16 Selected, plus their former caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Amajiki Tamaki – Five  
> Toogata Mirio – Three  
> Nejire Hado – Three  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Jiro Kyoka – Five  
> Tokoyami Fumikage – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – Six  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Utsushimi Camie – Two  
> Shiozaki Ibara – Three  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> Next chapter the Elite are being announced. I'll have that chapter out next Tuesday (my birthday :D)


	33. The Elite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am old...er. Today. So yey :D
> 
> Things have been somewhat hectic since today is my birthday and yesterday was my dad's BUT i don't actually think this chapter was that bad considering it was slightly rushed
> 
> Sooo enjoy ^w^

Hitoshi did a thorough examination of Denki’s back based off what little medical knowledge he’d retained from Aizawa’s lengthy lectures. From what he _could_ tell, they were healing nicely.  
  


“I’d say keep the stitches in another week, probably,” Hitoshi commented lightly, trying not to flinch at the mangled flesh on display in front of him. He offered Denki his shirt, silently telling him to hide away the painful lacerations that would soon form into scars. “No sign of infection. Here, use the blanket, you’re shivering.”  
  


Denki mock-glared at him, trying to push the blanket in his direction instead. Mitsuki and Masaru Bakugou hadn’t been kind when casting them out of the palace. In fact, they’d been thrown into one of the coldest and most desolate prefectures in Shizuoka. The ground was covered with a light dusting of shimmering white snow, which worked out of Hitoshi and Denki’s favor.  
  


They’d been sent out with nothing more than the clothes on their back, so Hitoshi wasn’t entirely sure how they were expected to survive the arduous winter months in this climate. Aizawa, ever their savior, had brought warm food and a fuzzy blanket with him on his last trip. Hitoshi had mentioned to him that he and Denki were planning to make a trek to the nearest, _warmest_ town they could find.  
  


“Take the damn blanket, Denks,” Hitoshi snapped without heat. Denki cringed back regardless, earning him a sigh from his violet-haired companion. “Sorry. You still need to check over how my back is doing, though. Take the blanket for now, yeah?”  
  


“Okay,” Denki muttered, tone laced with tiredness.  
  


Healing took a lot of energy, and it seemed Denki was only now getting used to constant fatigue. He was adjusting to the life of an Eight fairly well, though, all things considered. Once they moved locations, Hitoshi was sure they’d be on their feet in no time.  
  


While he hadn’t necessarily been living in the lap of luxury most of his life, he’d been _surviving_ , and that was all that really mattered. He’s sure him and Denki could get through this.  
  


The sting of the frost-bitten air whipped painfully against his fresh wounds, especially after Denki’s careful removal of his bandages. There was a harsh intake of breath from behind him—no doubt Denki was still just as upset over seeing Hitoshi hurt as he was of the blonde. Old wounds never truly fade, do they?  
  


“Is it bad?” Hitoshi asked quietly, biting his lip in anticipation. The infection had seemed to slowly whittle away, although Hitoshi had developed a fever early on because of it.  
  


Soft hands pressed gently against his stitches, fingers ghosting over where scars were surely soon to form.  
  


“Well, yeah, it’s bad,” Denki replied drily. Hitoshi scoffed. “But it’s getting better. I’d give a week, maybe more. When’s Aizawa coming back?”  
  


Hitoshi sighed, pulling his shirt back over his shivering form. “Not sure. He just said he’d be back whenever he could make it.”  
  


Denki nodded absently in lieu of response, shifting silently closer to Hitoshi’s side to share the blanket. Hitoshi gratefully accepted the offer, although he was sure to give Denki the larger portion.  
  


“We’ll leave him a trail to follow our progress,” Hitoshi said firmly. “Something we know he’ll find.”  
  


“Remember when he taught us about coding?” Denki brought up suddenly, a light forming in his dimly hued golden irises.  
  


“Uh, yeah?” Hitoshi said, phrased more-so like a question. Then, he caught on, “You’re thinking we could leave him a coded message.”  
  


Denki grinned, nodding frantically. “I wasn’t very good at it, since most involved either letters or numbers.” He said dejectedly. “ _But_ I remember morse.”  
  


Hitoshi dug around frantically for something they could write with. Grimacing, he pulled out a practically full blood bag with type O, meant to be used in case either of them were in need of an emergency blood transfusion.  
  


Denki, seeing where he was going with the blood bag, made a disgusted face.  
  


“ _No_ ,” he said firmly. “We are _not_ writing messages out on the wall to Aizawa in _blood_.”  
  


“What other choice to we have?” Hitoshi asked, desperation creeping into his tone.  
  


Denki’s eyes flickered between Hitoshi’s pale, frost-bitten features and the grotesque bag of blood sat inanimately in his hands.  
  


“Fine,” he relented. “Anything in there we can paint with? I’d rather not one of us need to use our hands.”  
  


“I’ll look,” Hitoshi agreed, looking around for a mostly useless medical tool Aizawa had left with them in the first aid kit he’d provided. Hopefully, it’d be both mostly useless _and_ functional as a makeshift paint brush. He _really_ wasn’t in the mood to stain his hands in _blood_ of all things.  
  


His search proved to be mostly futile—everything in the rucksack was _sharp_ , and probably wouldn’t make thick enough lines to be legible.  
  


“He gave us gloves,” Hitoshi murmured absently, swallowing a thick glob of saliva that got caught in his dry throat. Silently, he put a glove on one hand, and poked a small hole into the side of the blood bag with the other. “Guess we’re just going for it.”  
  


Covering his hand in a thick glob of warm, sticky blood, Hitoshi moved to write a message on the wall. He directed it towards Aizawa specifically, so the man hopefully wouldn’t get confused.  
  


“.- .. --.. .- .-- .- --..--/.. ..-./ -.-- --- ..- ‘ .-. ./… . . .. -. --./- …. .. … --..--/.-- . ‘ .-. ./…. . .- -.. .. -. --./… --- ..- - …. .-.-.-/-… .-. .. -. --./.--. .- .. -. - .. -. --./… ..- .--. .--. .-.. .. . … .-.-.-”  
  


_“Aizawa, if you’re seeing this, we’re heading south. Bring painting supplies.”  
  
_

“How’s that?” Hitoshi asked, stepping away from the wall gingerly.  
  


The blood was already dripping, unfortunately, but the message was still legible. Aizawa should be able to track them down next time they cross paths.  
  


“It looks good,” Denki commended, smiling gently. “Next time we leave a coded message, we should use different coding. Or mix them up—like a combination cipher.”  
  


Denki tenderly peeled the bloodied glove off of Hitoshi’s hand as he spoke, explaining his thought process. In this moment, Hitoshi wondered how he ever could’ve considered Denki to be _dumb_. They made a pretty good duo, despite their obvious setbacks.  
  


“Hey, are you listening?” Denki asked, waving his free hand in Hitoshi’s face.  
  


Hitoshi rolled his eyes, tuning back in the blonde’s words. “Yeah, yeah, pigpen cipher, I heard ya.” He muttered tiredly, dumping the bloodied glove to the side.  
  


He slung their pack over his shoulder, leaving Denki to carry the blanket on purpose. The blonde had something to keep him warm, at least.  
  


Hitoshi led their mostly silent breath. The most noise filling the space were the sound of their empty breaths ghosting through the frost-bitten air. Their forms were wracked with the cold, the singular blanket soon being shared between the huddling couple, seeking warmth at each other’s side.

* * *

The Selected’s parlor had been filled with a dreary atmosphere ever since _that_ day. The bakusquad were rarely seen outside of their bedrooms or mealtimes. Katsuki hadn’t invited a soul out on a date since, and hardly any of the Selected had seen hide nor hair of the blonde.  
  


Katsuki was drowning himself in an immense workload, hoping the constant distraction would be enough to take his mind off of things.  
  


He’d had the list of the Elite written out for ages, now, and had been planning to announce it soon after New Year’s. Now, here he was, and he hardly had the gall to make such an announcement so soon after such a tragedy. It felt almost unfair to Hitoshi and Denki’s efforts to ‘ _move on_ ’, per se, so soon after their unfortunate departure.  
  


At the same time, a part of Katsuki’s brain had him convinced now was the best time to get it over with. Best to rip the Band-Aid off fast, rather than drawing it out and causing the pain to last.  
  


Katsuki expected for at least one person to step forwards and request to return home, after the recently horrifying events that had taken place just outside in the courtyard. Katsuki wasn’t entirely sure he could step foot outside of there again without feeling the need to be sick.  
  


“I can hear you thinking, ‘Suki,” Akira said lightly, effectively snapping Katsuki out of his reverie. The blonde dug his palms into his eyes, trying to rub the tiredness from his mind in vain. “What’s up?”  
  


“The Elite,” he murmured anxiously, staring angrily at the imposing list of ten—no, _eight_ —men and women he’d decided on being the finalists. “I already know who I want them to be. Just don’t fucking know how to go about telling the damn Selected.”  
  


Akira hummed her silent acknowledgement, setting down whatever utensil she’d been using to clean his room with and perching thoughtfully on the edge of his bed. He didn’t mind her obvious comfortability with his room—he never had.  
  


“Everyone’s really freaked out, right now,” she pointed out blatantly. Katsuki scoffed. “I’d suggest going door-to-door and talking to them, asking how they’re doing. I get you’re upset, too, but you need to be strong for them as well. Especially Sir Kaminari and Sir Shinso’s closest friends.”  
  


Katsuki nodded along absently, shifting his scarlet gaze once again towards the list.  
  


“You have a good point, I guess,” he muttered, shifting in his seat to face her rather than his desk. “But I don’t want to offer them the chance to leave just to kick them out regardless. I know I _am_ the resident asshole, but c’mon.”  
  


“I understand what you’re getting at,” she replied sagely, worrying her nails as she thought about the task at hand. “I might have an idea, though.”

* * *

“Thank you all for coming,” Katsuki said quietly, tone unusually polite. “I understand that we’re all suffering right now. I am, too.  
  


“I’ve gathered you together to announce the Elite. Before I list names, I’d like to offer anyone who wants to the chance to leave on their own terms. Whether it be doubt over your feelings for me, belief that you’re unfit for ruling after witnessing yesterday’s events, or another matter, you may go.”  
  


He paused, allowing anyone who wanted to the chance to take their leave. Katsuki watched solemnly as both Kyoka and Shiozaki stood, bowing briefly before trudging their way towards the door. The room remained deathly silent until the door clicked shut at Shiozaki’s back.  
  


“The rest of you,” Katsuki continued, “will _all_ remain here for at least tonight, to say goodbye. Those of you who were not chosen as one of the Elite will leave come tomorrow morning, but I thank you for your efforts in the Selection, and gladly welcome you back when it comes time for me and my chosen suitor’s wedding.  
  


“Shoto Todoroki. Neito Monoma. Momo Yaoyorozu. Izuku Midoriya. Mina Ashido. Hanta Sero. Eijiro Kirishima. Ochaco Uraraka. If your name was not called, I’d recommend beginning to pack. You’ll be leaving in the morning. I’d recommend bidding your farewells now, while you have the opportunity.  
  


“Good night.”

* * *

Tension still hung thick in the air even after Katsuki was gone. Nejire let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She was disappointed about being eliminated, no doubt, but also grateful for the chance to say goodbye. Not many others had been given the same opportunity.  
  


“Congrats, Ochaco!” She squealed delightedly, beaming at the younger brunette, who grinned right back.  
  


“Aw, thanks Hado! I’m gonna miss you,” Ochaco replied tear-fully, smile quivering. Nejire pat her head comfortingly, returning the watery grin with her own soothing smile.  
  


“I’m gonna miss you, too, ‘Chaco,” Nejire replied, pulling the shorter girl into a tight hug, which Ochaco hardly hesitated in returning. “Win for me, yeah?”  
  


Ochaco nodded, grin wobbling slightly. Camie approached the girl from behind, already halfway into her farewell spiel. Nejire decided then was as good a time as any to back off, instead making her way over to where Mirio and Tamaki were congregating in the corner.  
  


“It’s too bad we were all eliminated!” Mirio said, although he didn’t sound all too upset about the fact.  
  


Nejire gave the two a dry look. “Nuh uh, don’t give me that bull,” she said indignantly. Mirio squawked in protest, whereas Tamaki met her with a quizzical stare. “If you two don’t get married the minute we return home, I’ll be thoroughly disappointed.”  
  


Both boys’ face erupted in a cherry red blush, stemming from their neck all the way to the tips of their ears. That was all the confirmation Nejire needed, really.  
  


“I’ll definitely be there!” She said excitedly, looping one arm through Mirio’s and the other through Tamaki’s. “Oh, oh, can I be your maid of honor, Tama?”  
  


“Uh, isn’t it supposed to be ‘Best Man’?” The raven-haired boy asked meekly.  
  


Nejire waved away his question. “Oh, semantics,” she replied easily, grinning fiercely. “I’ll help you plan!”  
  


“Uh, Nejire?” Mirio said, chuckling nervously. Nejire gave him a questioning glance. “We haven’t exactly agreed to getting married yet?”  
  


It came out as more of a question, rather than a statement. Nejire ignored him regardless.  
  


“Well, Tama do you want to marry Mirio?”

Mirio sputtered flustered protests, although all sound halted at the murmured “yes” that Tamaki replied with.  
  


“Mhm,” Nejire said triumphantly. “That’s what I thought. And Mirio, do you want to marry Tamaki?”  
  


Wordlessly, Mirio nodded, face an impressive shade of red.  
  


“It’s settled, then! Wedding preparations begin as soon as we return!”  
  


Mirio groaned fondly, shaking his head at his best friend’s antics.  
  


At least he got to marry the love of his life, after all.

* * *

Tetsutetsu hesitantly approached Neito, smiling timidly. “Looks like it’s just you left, man,” he commented. Neito nodded solemnly, watching as everyone said farewell. “Better win it for us, yeah?”  
  


Neito scoffed, turning his silver-eyed gaze towards Tetsutetsu, the latter grinning broadly. “You bet. I’ll have my win in the bag by the end of the month, you’ll see.”  
  


Tetsutetsu laughed, slapping Neito on the back good-naturedly. Neito was sorely tempted to brush off the physical contact, but simply allowed it because Tetsutetsu was his friend. He wondered briefly when some of the people here he had actually come to consider real friends.

“Don’t get _too_ cocky,” Tetsutetsu teased. “I’m rooting for my bro Kirishima, too. May the best man win!”  
  


“God, not this manliness bullshit again,” Neito groaned, smirking fondly. He was surprised to realize he was actually going to _miss_ this silver-haired idiot. “I expect you to stay in touch, you know.”  
  


Tetsutetsu grinned fiercely, cooing. “Aw, you gonna miss me?” He teased.  
  


“You wish,” Neito scoffed, turning away to hide his embarrassed flush. “I’m only asking for Kendo’s sake, clearly.”  
  


Tetsutetsu chuckled, pulling Neito into a one-armed hug. Neito didn’t reciprocate, although he didn’t necessarily pull away, either.  
  


“I’m gonna go say goodbye to Kendo, man,” Tetsutetsu said, grinning from ear to ear. He saluted Neito jokingly, earning himself an eye roll in return.  
  


Friends was a new concept to Neito, but he was starting to discover that they might not be so bad after all.

* * *

Amongst the hustle and bustle of the Selected all trading farewells, Fumikage managed to slip silently into the palace halls. While he enjoyed the company of a few people inside, Fumikage realized he was only particularly close to one person.  
  


The door opened mere seconds after Fumikage had knocked, to the boy’s satisfaction.  
  


“Hawks,” Fumikage greeted shortly, nodding at the blonde.  
  


Keigo grinned, opening the door further to invite Fumikage inside. Open entering, Fumikage immediately noticed Dabi’s presence, as well.  
  


“What’s up, Tsukuyomi?” Keigo questioned, sitting down on the plush mattress at Dabi’s side. Fumikage decidedly remained standing.  
  


“I consider us to be close.” Keigo nodded frantically in agreement, smiling broadly at the admission. “Alas, I was eliminated minutes ago. Prince Bakugou announced the Elite, and my name was not said. In short, I’ve come by to say my farewells.”  
  


The smile slipped slowly from Keigo’s features as he processed what Fumikage was explaining to him. “Oh. You’re really leaving?” Fumikage nodded solemnly. “I’m gonna miss you, Tsukuyomi. I was totally rooting for you!”  
  


Fumikage grinned drily. “While I had my hopes up as well, I severely doubted my chances. I’m only glad for this opportunity, and also to have met you. You’ll make a fine King.”  
  


Keigo teared up, fanning his face emotionally. “Aw, bud, you’re gonna make me cry!” The blonde stood up, enveloping Fumikage in a tight bear-hug which the latter was hesitant to reciprocate. “You’re always welcome in Fukuoka!”  
  


“Glad to hear it, Hawks,” Fumikage replied, hesitantly returning the hug.

* * *

Kyoka felt awkward continuing to wander the castle even after making the decision to eliminate herself from the Selection. She wasn’t feeling it between her and Katsuki, and she’d only be lying to herself by staying.  
  


Instead, she sought out Hizashi Yamada. Unsurprisingly, he was hard to find within the endless maze of palace hallways and corridors. She accepted the chance that he might be in his room, and as much as she didn’t want to intrude on his more personal life—including his alone time with his husband—it couldn’t really be helped. If he didn’t take her up on her request _tonight_ , she’d ultimately have to leave, and miss her window of opportunity.  
  


It was now or never.  
  


Hizashi opened after the second knock. His normally gelled blonde hair cascaded graciously across his shoulders, falling at around his waist. Kyoka couldn’t even imagine having to manage all that hair.  
  


“Jiro?” Hizashi questioned tiredly, redirecting Kyoka’s attention back to the task at hand. “What are you—” Yawn, “doing here?”  
  


Kyoka shifted nervously on the balls of her feet, mindlessly twirling a loose strand of her.  
  


“I’ve been eliminated,” she explained slowly, keeping her eyes trained furtively on the ground. Hizashi’s eyes widened in surprise. “So, uh, I was wondering if you could take me on full time as your, uh, protégé. So to speak.”  
  


“Yeah, sure, kid,” Hizashi agreed immediately. Kyoka gaped at him, shocked at his easy compliance. “What, were you expecting me to say _no_? You’ve come this far, Jiro. I think that you’d for a wonderful host of the Report in the future!”  
  


Shyly, Kyoka lifted her gaze to meet his earnest green eyes. “Really? You think so?”  
  


Hizashi nodded enthusiastically, grinning from ear-to-ear. “I know so, kid.”

* * *

Shouta sighed, beginning the trek for his third lap around the town. He’d been there for over two hours, and still no sign of either Hitoshi or Denki. He knew they were planning to head somewhere warmed—hell, _he’d_ actually been the one to advise them to do so. He’d also told them to leave a trail, or message to clue him in to where they were headed.  
  


Then again, he hadn’t exactly left them much to work with in that department. He’ll bring better supplies next time—that is, if he can actually manage to _find_ them.  
  


He was just about ready to head back to the palace and call it a day when he saw the flicker of something red shimmering off of a stone wall in the pale moonlight. Approaching the odd crimson shading on the wall, he realized it was actually a series of dots and dashes written in some sort of red paint.  
  


 _Morse code_.  
  


“ _Aizawa, if you’re seeing this, we’re heading south. Bring painting supplies._ ”  
  


It took less than a moment for Shouta to decode it. Upon realizing the message—one that _had_ to have been written in _blood_ , he realized morbidly, since they definitely couldn’t have afforded paint—and it’s contents, Shouta hurried back to where the carriage was waiting.  
  


He climbed in the back silently, leaning forwards to speak to the driver for instructions on where to go.  
  


“Nemuri, they left me a message saying they’ve headed south. Take me to the next town over in their direction.” Shouta instructed briefly.  
  


His raven-haired friend took up the reins. “What, no ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, Sho? What ever happened to manners?” She grumbled fondly, but complied with his request nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really didn't want them to use blood to write on the wall, but I tried googling medical supplies and stuff like that but I just didn't find anything else that would've been functional as a replacement for paint, or a paintbrush. Gloves and a random blood bag that we don't question will just have to do smh
> 
> Another thing, I don't know morse code. I've heard of it, yeah, but I had to google it, so its probably not entirely accurate. The whole thing with the period's and comma's had me hella confused tbh
> 
> So I get that it seems like miritama was moving kinda quick to be getting married right out the gate, but things seemed to move just as fast in the Selection series. Girls who were eliminated would go back home and get married within literal d a y s to complete s t r a n g e r s. At least those two knew each other before-hand ^^
> 
> Here's a list of the Elite, plus their caste (and wow the numbers are really starting to get low, huh?):  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> Hawks and Tokoyami's relationship as mentor/student is amazing imo. I love both of them, and especially together.
> 
> I love the idea of Jiro being Present Mic's protégé in this fic :> It was a split-second decision that just came to me randomly in the middle of writing, but I'm really glad it did.
> 
> We saw our first cameo from everyone's favorite wine aunt, Midnight ;P She's amazing, I love her. Actually, I love pretty much every female character, but s t i l l
> 
> Next chapter Katsuki is gonna go talk to all of the Selected--those who are leaving, and those who are staying. That'll probably take up the entire chapter, and after that I have a Valentine's day thing planned in the fic. The next chapter will be out on Friday! ^^


	34. Our Final Goodbye's Pt.1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was NOT meant to be two parts. There was a fucking spider in my room, so to any aracnophobes who understand, I just could n o t find it in me to write while there was that damned creature staring me down from under the bed.
> 
> I'm about to rant about something that has nothing to do with the fic, so like you can just skip past this if you want. All the time people tell me to just "get over" my supposed "silly" fear of spiders, but it is NOT THAT SIMPLE. At the sight of a spider in my room, I started shaking and hyperventilating. How am I meant to kill a spider when I cant even fucking move?! Its not a fear I can simply "get over". I get a lot of shit from my family and peers for this phobia, but I genuinely cannot help it. I even tried to kill the spider in my room, but my hands were shaking so much that I missed by a fucking mile.
> 
> Rant over, sorry. In conclusion, spiders fucking suck, and the next part to this chapter will be out on Tuesday. IF there isn't another damn spider haunting me.
> 
> Enjoy the parts I DID write!

Katsuki was utterly spent. He hated making that announcement about the Elite, especially since it meant he had to send so many amazing men and women home. He wasn’t sure exactly when he’d grown so attached to all of the Selected, but there was no denying it anymore.  
  


He’d began this competition in his firm beliefs that no one amongst this group could possibly love him, or that he could ever reciprocate if they did. Now, he was starting to question everything he’d thought he knew before in regards to love. Love was tender, and beautiful. But love was painful, and confusing.  
  


Did Katsuki love any of the Selected? Honestly, he couldn’t be sure. He thought of each of the Elite in turn, wondering whether love was the proper term to describe how he felt for them.  
  


Momo was wonderful—she was kind, sincere, smart, and gracious. Everything anyone could’ve ever wanted in a bride. No doubt she’d make an amazing Queen, and lead the citizens of Shizuoka with poise and grace.  
  


Neito was much similar to Momo, but there was a devious aspect to his personality that Momo simply didn’t possess. The blonde was certainly here to win, and he made that fact especially known. Katsuki admired his drive, and enjoyed his company if only to laugh at his hilarious responses to Katsuki’s teasing.  
  


Hanta exuded a calm and soothing air that Katsuki greatly appreciated. His smile was positively infectious, and his laidback demeanor was simply refreshing. Katsuki had to admit, he enjoyed Hanta’s presence nearly more than any of the others. He felt so at ease being around the brunette, which he couldn’t say was a feeling he was used to.  
  


Mina was strong, confident, excitable, and simply loads of fun. Katsuki could still recall their first date, which ended with the both of them being covered head-to-toe in a shit ton of paint. She had a competitive nature, which Katsuki understood all too well, but Mina enjoyed herself whether she were to win or lose. Katsuki could always depend on her to turn any situation, no matter how somber, into something joyous and interesting.  
  


Shoto was definitely the silent and mysterious type—even after the man having spent a considerable amount of time at the palace, Katsuki felt as though he knew next to nothing about him. He was quiet and guarded, but Katsuki had seen him when he was at his most comfortable state. The blonde was simply determined to have that kind of influence over Shoto as well—he wanted the man to consider him ‘ _safe_ ’, as well.  
  


Eijiro had been one of the biggest contenders from the start. With his overly kind demeanor, vibrant smile, and his excessive use of the color _red_ —Katsuki’s personal favorite—he’d drawn in Katsuki’s attention right away. Eijiro possessed a never-ending surplus of patience, which went well to off put Katsuki’s aggressive tendencies. He laughed off most of Katsuki’s insults like they were harmless, and never lost faith even on some of Katsuki’s worst days.  
  


Ochaco was a fighter through and through, which Katsuki greatly admired. At first glance, she seemed sweet and unassuming, but there was a fire dancing under her skin that was just waiting to be unleashed. She was going to be a force to be reckoned with whenever it was, and Katsuki was excited to see that moment come to light. They’d make for a fearsome pairing.  
  


Izuku was similar, in a way, and it showed in the way him and Ochaco got on like a house on fire. Izuku had a naturally calm, and sweet demeanor. It was honestly shocking the public didn’t absolutely adore him, because Katsuki could tell right away that Izuku was a people-person, despite his obvious anxieties. In that regard, Izuku was very similar to Eijiro, but he also contained an unexplainable fire brimming in his viridian eyes that Katsuki would’ve been blind to miss. If he were to become King, Katsuki is sure Shizuoka would only strengthen because of it.  
  


And thinking back on it now, Katsuki simply couldn’t choose. He adored all of them nearly equally, and could pinpoint their best qualities easily.  
  


Momo’s kindness, Neito’s cunning, Hanta’s serenity, Mina’s infectious excitability, Shoto’s shrouded mystery, Eijiro’s persistence, Ochaco’s fire, and Izuku’s understanding nature.  
  


They were all incredible people, which normally Katsuki might be pretty excited about. But, there was one problem—how would he ever _choose_?

* * *

Akira had talked Katsuki into visiting the Selected that night— _all_ of them. As a way to say goodbye to those who were leaving, and check in on the condition of everyone who was staying.  
  


His first stop was, inevitably, Tamaki’s room. The shy boy answered on the fourth knock, peering out at him from a slim opening in the cracked door.  
  


“Oh, uh, P-Prince Bakugou,” he stammered meekly, pulling the door open wider. “Come i-in.”  
  


Katsuki came inside, standing awkwardly in the center of the room as Tamaki perched on the edge of his bed. Noticing his uncomfortability, Tamaki graciously gestured for Katsuki to take a seat at his desk chair.  
  


“How are you doing?” Katsuki asked after he’d been properly seated.  
  


Tamaki bit at his nails nervously, staring at the ground in thought. “Mirio and I are planning to get married,” he muttered, excitement seeping into his tone despite his nervous demeanor.  
  


“Oh? That was damn quick,” Katsuki replied offhandedly.  
  


“I think it was inevitable, honestly,” Tamaki commented mindlessly. “No offense to you, but . . . I came here to get over him, if I’m being honest with myself. Instead, we both ended up getting in, and my feelings only deepened.”  
  


Katsuki nodded sagely. “He’s why you didn’t stand up to leave, I’m guessing?” He asked.  
  


“Yeah. I still wanted to be at his side,” Tamaki said nervously, avoiding Katsuki’s intense gaze. “I don’t think the two of us ever really had a chance, did we?”  
  


He phrased it as a question, but they both already knew the answer. Katsuki’s personality was perhaps a little _too_ brash for Tamaki’s timidity.  
  


Tamaki took his silence as a no. “It was nice coming here, regardless,” Tamaki said, smiling fondly. “I saw _bugs_ for the first time. And I got to meet Nejire, as well as some others who were especially nice. I, uh, think I know who’s going to be winning, as well.”  
  


Katsuki looked up at him sharply. “Who?” He asked persistently.  
  


Tamaki smiled shyly. “I won’t say. I don’t want your decision to be weighted by another person’s opinion.” He replied ominously. “I wish you the best of luck, Prince Bakugou. Choose wisely.”  
  


Katsuki nodded slowly, taking that as his unofficial cue to leave. He paused at the door, looking over his shoulder once more at the raven-haired man perched at the edge of his bed. Tamaki was smiling bigger than Katsuki had honestly ever seen on the man, and it was a nice look on him.  
  


“Farewell, Prince Bakugou.”  
  


Katsuki nodded once in return, turning back towards the door and opening it wide. With the soft click of the door shutting quietly behind him, Katsuki set off to say his final goodbyes to another former suitor.

* * *

Fumikage wondered idly if it would be considered improper to keep in touch with Hawks. Surely not—while the man was set in stone to become King _any day_ now, they were friends regardless. Perhaps the occasional trip to Fukuoka could do him some good.  
  


As he was pondering the concept, Fumikage could hear an attentive knocking pound persistently against his door. He strolled leisurely to open it, being met face-to-face with Katsuki.  
  


“Prince Bakugou,” Fumikage greeted, nodding his head as he opened his door wide to allow Katsuki entrance. “A pleasure.”  
  


Katsuki scoffed, making himself at home at Fumikage’s desk. “Obviously. This is _me_ we’re talking about.”  
  


“That’s why it’s such a surprise,” Fumikage replied drily.  
  


“Oi, shut the fuck up bird brain!” Katsuki exclaimed angrily, huffing petulantly. “Came to say goodbye, or whatever.”  
  


“A mad banquet of darkness indeed . . .” Fumikage said ominously.  
  


Katsuki smirked, huffing a small laugh. “What bullshit are you spoutin’ over there? Tch.” He huffed again, leaning back in Fumikage’s chair. “Gonna be weird without you and your creepy emo shit around all the fuckin’ time. Have any plans for when you return home?”  
  


Fumikage nodded sagely. “I plan to keep in contact with Hawks, of course.” Katsuki decidedly didn’t ask who ‘ _Hawks_ ’ was. “There’s also someone else I’d like to seek the presence of. Mezo Shoji, if you recall.”  
  


He had to think about it, but Katsuki could vaguely recall a freakishly tall man with biceps twice the size of his head.  
  


“Yeah, I remember. He’s kinda hard to forget.” Fumikage nodded his agreement. “Why you tryna find him?”  
  


“He intrigued me. Another bearer of darkness, I presume,” he said. Katsuki blinked, slowly trying to decipher the meaning of his words. Sensing his confusion, Fumikage said, “Only one with the void would understand.”  
  


This left Katsuki only to be even more confused.  
  


“Tch. Whatever. Have fun, I guess.” He said, rolling his eyes. “Or don’t, I don’t give a fuck.”  
  


“I think you do,” Fumikage countered. “You just don’t want to admit it. Thank you, regardless. As long as I remain shrouded in the mystery of eternal darkness, I’ll be perfectly fine.”  
  


“I don’t know what the fuck you’re saying anymore,” Katsuki deadpanned.  
  


Fumikage nodded, grinning teasingly. Katsuki was only even surer the raven-haired man was toying with him.  
  


“To understand, you must become one with the darkness. Until then, the light shall cloud your mind with confusion.”  
  


“I’m fucking leaving before you possess me,” Katsuki said, standing up.  
  


He nodded briefly in Fumikage’s direction as one final acknowledgement. Smiling slightly, Fumikage returned the gesture.  
  


“I wish you farewell, Katsuki Bakugou. May the void bless your soul.”  
  


Katsuki huffed, halfway out the door by now. “I really fucking hope it doesn’t. Keep your fucking Satanic pests to yourself, bird brain.”  
  


The door clicked shut softly behind his back.

* * *

Upon receiving yet another letter from Tenya, Ochaco decided to stop by Izuku’s room so they could read it. Clearing her throat, she began to read:  
  


“ _Dear Izuku and Ochaco,  
  
_

_I hope you are both doing well. Things are going as well as they can on my end—supposedly, the police forces have recently found a new lead on the Stain case. While my parents have ordered that I am not to leave the house alone under any circumstances, the progress in his case could very well change that. Tensei was buried recently, and I’ve been consistently visiting his grave with each passing day. Mei has been coming with me for moral support, which I greatly appreciate. I’m considering the thought of proposing to her, although I don’t want to act too hastily. I’ve heard grief can make you act rashly, so I need to be sure of my feelings before acting. I hope that both of your romantic endeavors are going as well as my own. I wish you both the best of luck in the Selection, and have no doubt both of you have great shots at winning.  
  
_

_Sincerely, Tenya.”_

“He’s planning to propose!” Izuku exclaimed excitedly. Ochaco swooned at the thought. They _better_ be getting invitations to that wedding. “We need to write back—tell him about the Elite!”  
  


Ochaco shot up excitedly, shifting to dig around in Izuku’s desk drawers. After procuring a sheet of paper and a black pen to write with, she sat down. Her hand hovered indecisively over the paper as she decided what to write. In her moment of indecision, a firm knock resounded against the door.  
  


Izuku shot Ochaco a slightly bewildered look. The greenette hopped up from his bed, moving towards the door to crack it open slightly, peering anxiously into the hallway.  
  


“Oh! Ka—er, Prince Bakugou.” Ochaco frowned at his near slip-up. “It’s so good to see you!”  
  


Katsuki entered the room graciously, nodding his head in greeting at both Izuku and Ochaco. If he was surprised to see the brunette sitting there, he certainly didn’t show it.  
  


“Came by to check in,” he said offhandedly, seating himself comfortably on the edge of Izuku’s bed. “At least this saves me an extra trip.”  
  


Ochaco grinned. “You’re welcome, by the way. I think I speak for both of us in saying we’re doing pretty good—a little shocked, on my end, honestly.”  
  


“Tch. You fucking shouldn’t be,” Katsuki replied, frowning slightly. His response seemed to surprise Ochaco.  
  


“And why’s that?” She challenged.  
  


Izuku took a seat at Katsuki’s side, listening in intently to the conversation taking place between the two. If he were being honest, he was a little curious on Katsuki’s reasoning for choosing him as well. He’d ask in due time, of course.  
  


“That’s for me to know and you to fucking wonder, Round Cheeks.” Katsuki replied stubbornly.  
  


Ochaco whined, leaning over into both Izuku and Katsuki’s space. “What the hell kinda answer is that?!” She complained loudly, earning her a snort from Katsuki. “And my cheeks aren’t _that_ round—are they?”  
  


“They are,” Izuku and Katsuki replied simultaneously. Ochaco moaned piteously.  
  


Izuku took pity on her. “Don’t worry, Ocha, it’s cute!” He said. The brunette in question mock-glared at her friend’s lame attempts at cheering her up.  
  


“My cheeks are not round. If I had come here knowing I was gonna get made fun of I would’ve headed to Mina’s room instead,” she said, huffing jokingly.  
  


Izuku bit his lip, looking towards Katsuki. “How is Ashido doing after everything that happened?”  
  


Katsuki shrugged. “Better, from what I’ve seen. Haven’t visited her yet, though, so I guess I’ll know more later, huh?”  
  


“Who have you visited so far? How are they?” Ochaco piped up, leaning forwards in her seat.  
  


“Fucking bird brain and Amajiki. Latter’s gettin’ married, so I guess he ain’t all that upset about getting eliminated,” Katsuki explained. “Didn’t understand a damn word of what bird brain was spoutin’. Something about the damn void and eternal darkness, whatever.”  
  


Ochaco snorted. “Yup, sounds like Tokoyami, alright,” she commented lightly.  
  


Few of the Selected completely understood Fumikage. He’d created an odd sort of understanding between him, Kyoka, and Hitoshi, but kept to himself other than that.  
  


“I never understand a word he says, honestly,” Izuku admitted shyly. Ochaco and Katsuki nodded in agreement.  
  


Katsuki stood, brushing imaginary dirt of his trousers. “I still have—what? Ten of you fuckers left to visit? Tch.” He sighed. “Sometimes I wonder why I ever let my parents coerce me into doing this damn Selection.”  
  


Izuku smiled wryly. “Goodnight, Kacchan,” he said softly, waving. Katsuki nodded in acknowledgement.  
  


“G’night, Blasty!” Ochaco said exuberantly, beaming at the blonde. Katsuki scowled in return, opening the door and letting it click shut behind him.  
  


Ochaco spun towards her best friend, eyebrow raised in surprise.  
  


“ _Kacchan_?”

* * *

Hanta was fast asleep when he heard a sharp knocking sound reverberate around his room. He’d been sleeping a lot more since what happened to Denki, and yet less at the same time. Whenever he fell too deep into sleep, nightmares plagued his mind. But when he were awake, the memories of green grass soaked in blood and tragedy flashed behind his eyes like a never-ending movie. There was hardly a time Hanta could find where his memories weren’t playing on repeat, but at the edge of his consciousness, lost in between the boundary of sleep and wakefulness, he found the eye of his own personal hurricane.  
  


As soon as his eyes snapped open, he could hear the screams of tortured anguish resounding in his ears, filling the silence of the room. Another sharp knock against the fragile wood of his door cut off the sounds blissfully.  
  


Hanta blinked blearily in the direction of his door, wondering who could have possibly come to visit his room so late at night—Eijiro, or Mina, perhaps.  
  


He crossed the room in two long-legged strides, gently pulling open the door so whoever waited outside the threshold could enter. He hardly even blinked at the sight of Katsuki waiting there, hand poised for another forceful knock, much similar to the one that woke him from his peaceful slumber. Hanta opened the door wide, walking away to simply allow the blonde entrance.  
  


Too tired for proper pleasantries, he crawled back into the comfort of his sheets. The thought that Denki may never get to enjoy something as trivial to him as soft bed sheets plagued his mind as he lie there in thought, unintentionally spacing out in the direction of the wall.  
  


The clearing of a throat broke Hanta from his reverie, the brunette instead snapping his direct attention towards Katsuki. The blonde had perched himself at the tail end of Hanta’s bed, not far from where Hanta’s long legs had stretched out towards under his silky white sheets.  
  


“Uh, what’s up, man?” Hanta asked, sleep lacing his tired tone. He blinked at Katsuki, waiting tiredly for a reply.  
  


“I came to see how you’re doing,” the blonde replied easily, meeting Hanta’s tired gaze. “Seems I woke you up. I can go—”  
  


“It’s fine, dude,” Hanta said, a yawn quickly interrupting anything else he’d been planning to say. “Nightmares are kinda shit, right now, so I don’t mind. And I’m doing fine, I guess. Glad to know I made it into the, uh, Elite, and all. Aren’t there supposed to be ten of us, though?”  
  


Katsuki’s gaze dropped down to the floor sadly, and through his tired haze, Hanta missed the tears brimming at the edges of Katsuki’s crimson gaze.  
  


“Two were sent away without my decision being taken into consideration. Seems they’d found love between one another, regardless,” he muttered absently, tone uncharacteristically quiet.  
  


Hanta sighed dejectedly, burying his face in his pillow. “I miss him.”  
  


Hanta didn’t have to explain who he was referring to—Katsuki just _knew_ he meant Denki. The exuberant blonde had been quick to make many friends amongst the other Selected, as well as some of the palace staff. His maids had been utterly heartbroken after witnessing his flogging, their quality of work going down considerably during the mourning stage.  
  


“Me too,” Katsuki replied, voice hardly above a whisper.  
  


They sat in a companionable silence, the only sounds being the beating of the winter wind against Hanta’s closed windows, and the two boys’ hushed breathing. Hanta felt the telltale signs of sleep prick at his mind persistently, and he begrudgingly succumbed to the blissful want of unconsciousness.

* * *

Tetsutetsu wasn’t sure how to feel about his all too sudden elimination. He was dead-set on winning Katsuki’s heart, but he had to admit to himself he wasn’t all too upset about his lost chance. If Katsuki didn’t love _him_ , even if _he_ loved Katsuki, then there was nothing Tetsutetsu could do to change that.  
  


Mostly, he was a little bummed out about having to leave Kendo, and surprisingly enough, Neito. He’d grown especially close to those two, as well as Shiozaki—although she was particularly closed off to most, so it was hard to form a lasting bond. He was going to miss Kendo’s levelheadedness and Neito’s snarky comebacks. He realized he was also going to be missing his and Eijiro’s shared appreciation for all things manly. Never before in his life had he met someone so incredibly similar to himself in every regard.  
  


Of course, he would miss the hot-headed Prince which he’d quickly grown fond of over the months of his stay. Katsuki was pure attraction in every right, and alluring to a fault. Someone that angry, and flat-out _rude_ really shouldn’t be as endearing as he is, but Tetsutetsu just couldn’t help what he felt attracted to.  
  


On the opposite end of the scale was Kendo, with her naturally kind and soothing demeanor, as well as an air of seamless responsibility she simply exuded. It made sense she was asked after for the position of royal advisor—she gave pretty damn good advice, no doubt. Tetsutetsu was sure he’d miss her most of all, the possibility of a small time crush blossoming in his chest. It didn’t matter, either way—he probably wouldn’t be able to see either her or Katsuki for a _while_.  
  


That was proven immediately wrong at the sound of a resounding knock persistently banging against his door. Tetsutetsu hopped up from his desk, meandering over to the door to see who it was on the other side.  
  


“Prince Bakugou, man!” Tetsutetsu exclaimed upon sight of the blonde standing a mere foot away from him outside his room. “What’s up? Came to say goodbye?”  
  


Katsuki took a hesitant few steps in the room, looking around at the meager décor. “Something like that.”  
  


Tetsutetsu slumped carelessly at his desk chair, gesturing at his bed for Katsuki to sit. The blonde quickly obeyed, scowling petulantly.  
  


“Gotta ask, though,” Tetsutetsu said suddenly. Katsuki gave him a sharp look, raising an eyebrow in question. “Who’s your personal favorite to win, right now?”  
  


Katsuki scoffed. “I don’t have a damn ‘ _favorite_ ’. Or else I would’ve fucking chosen.” He protested firmly.  
  


Tetsutetsu held his hands up in mock surrender, grinning sheepishly. “I’m rootin’ for my boys Kirishima and Monoma, now I’m outta the game.”  
  


“I guess neither of them suck _that_ much,” Katsuki admitted begrudgingly.  
  


“That’s not what you were saying when we saw you sucking face with Kiri on your mom’s birthday.”  
  


“That’s it, I’m fucking leaving.”  
  


Tetsutetsu ultimately failed in suppressing his laughter when being faced with a Katsuki’s priceless reactions to jabs. The fact he was laughing only seemed to upset the blonde further.  
  


“Stop fucking laughing!” Katsuki yelled. Tetsutetsu doubled over, ignoring him entirely. “I don’t see what’s so fucking funny.”  
  


“Just your _reactions_ , man,” Tetsutetsu replied breathlessly. “Priceless.”  
  


“You know what?” Katsuki stood up, crossing his arms. “There are nine other dumbasses I could be visiting right now who _wouldn’t_ laugh at my expense. I hope you fucking choke on your spit.”  
  


“Well goodbye to you too,” Tetsutetsu replied sarcastically. He could see the small grin sliding its way onto Katsuki’s face. “Glad for the chance to come here—I’ll definitely be back for the wedding.”  
  


“You fucking better. Did I ever say you had a choice?” Katsuki replied, already halfway out the door. “Bye, dumbass. Have an okay life, I guess.”  
  


Tetsutetsu gaped at the shut door, shaking his head. “ _You guess_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was the second spider I've found in my room in the past... week? I think? I'm so scared to walk on the floor anymore smh. I'm like hopping from my desk chair to my bed so I don't have to touch the ground
> 
> Tokoyami is honestly so much fun to write. Hes just an emo babey and I love it :,) But like trying to imagine him with a normal face is fucking weeeeeeeeeird
> 
> Ah, yes, so many of my ships are coming to light with these both recent and somewhat old eliminations :> Mirio and Tamaki, Shoji and Tokoyami, Iida and Hatsume--I have no self control. Help XD
> 
> Here's a list of the Elite, plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> Next chapter is the unplanned part 2. Once again, sorry for having to split it up into two chapters. I was really hoping for a nice long chapter this time around *s i g h*
> 
> I'll have that out on Tuesday--hope you enjoyed this update ^^


	35. Our Final Goodbye's Pt.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the part two! Sorry for splitting it up into two chapters, that wasn't meant to happennnn
> 
> Damn spiders.
> 
> Enjoy!

Nejire had to admit, she was a little surprised. While she’d been commenting earnestly about her suggestion for Tamaki and Mirio’s wedding, she’d mostly expected them to write it off as a joke on her part. Instead, they’d sucked it up and were taking the initiative—in short, they _listened_. She couldn’t happier for the two.  
  


She’d rightfully claimed the title of Tamaki’s future maid of honor, which the brunette seemed slightly skeptical of. Oh well, she’d just have to convince him—  
  


Any further train of thought was cut off by a swift knocking at her door. She opened it quickly, peeking her head out curiously.  
  


“Prince Bakugou! Oh my gosh, come in!” She gushed, pulling the door open wide for the grouchy Prince.  
  


The blonde stepped in, hunching noticeably as he walked. He was always notorious for his downright horrible posture, especially considering his upbringing.  
  


“Hey, hey,” she called enthusiastically to grab his attention. “What’s up? Shouldn’t you be, like, _sleeping_?”  
  


“Shouldn’t you?” He fired back tiredly. Nejire could tell he’d much rather be asleep.  
  


“Well, yes, I suppose. But! Tamaki and Mirio are getting married and I’m just _so excited_! How could I possibly sleep?”  
  


Katsuki sighed, flopping unceremoniously down on the edge of her bed. “How do you have so much _energy_?”  
  


Nejire shrugged, “Caffeine.”  
  


Katsuki nodded understandingly. “Yeah huh, makes sense,” he agreed. “How are you doing?”  
  


“You mean in general?” He nodded. “Well, uh, _shocked_. I wasn’t expecting such a big elimination, so sudden! But, y’know, the atmosphere’s been kinda mopey since the flogging.”  
  


Katsuki flinched at her indirect mention of Denki and Hitoshi. “Yeah, they didn’t fucking deserve what they got.”  
  


Nejire frowned, mood dipping slightly. “No. They didn’t. But there’s no use fretting over the past—nothing we can do about it, yeah?”  
  


Katsuki lifted his head up firmly, blinking away tears that were absolutely _not_ forming in his eyes. Nejire had a point—there was nothing Katsuki could do to save the pairs’ fate, now. He’d saved their life, at the least—they were alive. Isn’t that all that mattered?  
  


“I can hear you thinking,” Nejire said, uncharacteristically quiet. “What’s up?”  
  


Katsuki gazed at her sadly. “I think you already know what I’m fucking thinking about.”  
  


Nejire nodded solemnly, “Don’t worry too much, yeah? They’re still alive, and—oh, well, don’t you dare tell anyone about this but, um, I heard they were receiving help from someone _inside_ the palace. My maid’s were gossiping about it the other day, so, y’know, they’re gonna be okay!”  
  


This was certainly news to Katsuki. And he was sure it would be to his parents as well—they would _not_ be pleased upon hearing this, he knew. It was best kept to himself, and _maybe_ Akira.  
  


“Didn’t know that,” he muttered, picking at his nails. “Thanks, I guess.”  
  


Nejire beamed. “No problem! Get some sleep, you look like you’re gonna keel over!”  
  


Katsuki sneered. “Still got seven more extras to visit before I retire for the damn night—ugh. Why are there so fucking many of you?”  
  


Nejire huffed a quiet laugh, “ _Good night_ , Prince Bakugou.”  
  


“Tch. G’night, whatever.”

* * *

Ordinarily, Mina was as social as they came. She’d managed to befriend a good majority of the people in her village, old and young alike. Whenever she wasn’t working or dancing, she was out with friends. Whether it be shopping—or looking at expensive things she could never hope to afford—a chill day at the beach, etc., Mina was down for it.  
  


But now, she felt all that excitable energy she’d been storing up slowly ebb away with each thought of messy blonde hair and an electric smile that could light up a room. She felt bad for not feeling the same remorse over Hitoshi’s fate, but she had to come to terms with the fact that she was inevitably closer to Denki. Eijiro, above all else, was her closest friend. _But_ , she always knew deep down that if she’d known Denki just as long, they’d be even closer.  
  


She missed him sorely—all of them did. Hitoshi was definitely missed, too, and any thoughts of him continuously plagued her mind regardless of who she were personally closer to. Kyoka snapped under the loss of two of her closest friends, and ended up leaving. Mina decidedly stayed—she was surrounded by amazing friends. Even with everything that’s happened, sticking by people who were not only comforting but also managed to _understand_ would be the most beneficial for her.  
  


Plus, she still had a promise to keep to Hanako, one she certainly didn’t intend on breaking.  
  


What would Denki think if he managed to find out somehow she’d bowed out of the Selection without giving it the proper effort? She’d felt so _determined_ to win, after Denki left, but that determination had slowly been draining from her with each memory, or nightmare.  
  


She didn’t even want to _imagine_ what Denki and Hitoshi were going through.  
  


Luckily, she didn’t have to, because at that moment a purposeful knock reverberated throughout the lonely quiet of her room. Mina leapt up, opening the door hurriedly. She could _really_ do for some company, right now.  
  


Seems like the same was true for Katsuki, since he was the one outside her door. “Oh, uh, Blasty, hey,” she greeted, scrunching her eyebrows together as she silently invited him in the room. He gladly took the invitation, plopping himself down at her desk. “Um, what’s up?”  
  


“Sheesh, you sound fucking tired.” He commented, voice lacking the usual bite. “When’s the last time you slept? And for how fucking long?”  
  


Mina narrowed her eyes, expertly dodging the question. “I could ask you the same thing, Bakugou. Is there something you needed to tell me?”  
  


Katsuki huffed, rolling his eyes, “Well, I’m going around door-to-door saying goodbye ‘n shit. Also seeing how you guys are fucking doing, or whatever. Just a formality.”  
  


“’How we’re doing?’” Mina quoted quizzically. “Horribly, thanks for asking.”  
  


Katsuki smirked, chuckling lowly. “God, fucking same,” he replied, shaking his head in exasperation. “Havin’ any second doubts?”  
  


“Not about you,” she replied immediately, tone earnest. “I just . . . well, you know, I miss Denki. Hitoshi, too, although I gotta admit I’ve been thinking about Denki a lot more . . .”  
  


“Yeah, I get it,” Katsuki said, tone uncharacteristically soft. “I guess I fucking miss them, too. Nothin’ we can do about it, though.”  
  


“Not until you’re King, at least,” Mina pointed out, smirking devilishly.  
  


A sinister grin tugged violently at Katsuki’s lips, marring his ordinarily handsome features.  
  


“God, _no_ , never make that face again,” Mina groaned, hiding her eyes away. Katsuki audibly growled. “Ugh. Maybe I _am_ having second doubts after all, sheesh.”  
  


“Oi, shut the fuck up, raccoon eyes,” Katsuki snapped in return, barely repressing his smirk.  
  


“ _Raccoon eyes_?!” Mina shrieked, subconsciously touching at her eyes. “I don’t—oh god, I don’t _really_ look like a raccoon, do I?!”  
  


Katsuki shrugged, grinning impishly. “Hafta get the nickname from _somewhere_.”  
  


Mina slapped his shoulder lightly, huffing. “Damn, I came out here to have a good time and I’m honestly feeling _so attacked right now_.”  
  


Katsuki gave her a blank look. “That fucking meme is literal _centuries_ old—what kinda bullshit are you even _doing_ in your free time?”  
  


Mina gave him her most innocent look. “Nothing,” she replied in a sing-song voice.  
  


“Remind never to trust you with fucking _anything_ ever again.”  
  


“’ _Again_?’ When have you trusted me ever _before_?”  
  


“It’s not my fucking fault you’re so untrustworthy, Pinky.”  
  


Mina grinned, “See! Pinky isn’t so bad! Never—and I mean _never_ —compare me to a raccoon again.”  
  


Katsuki met her grin with a challenging smile of his own. “Or _what_?”  
  


Mina leaned over towards him, muttering something unintelligible in his ear. Katsuki blanched.  
  


“Fucking fine, I’ll give you this round, Pinky.” He muttered dejectedly. “I’m leaving before you fucking decide to _blackmail_ me again.”  
  


“It’s not _blackmail_!” Mina protested, which went entirely ignored.  
  


“Fucking _good night_ ,” he muttered, strutting towards the currently shut door and forcefully tugging it open.  
  


“Good night, Bakugou!” Mina called out from behind him and the door slowly creaked shut.  
  


Katsuki noticed satisfactorily that a lot of the warmth had returned to her tone throughout the duration of their conversation.

* * *

Everything had been moving so _fast_. Camie found it hard to process all the crazy events that had taken place so far. She and Inasa had been close—she was closer to him than anyone else in the Selected. Suddenly, he’d punched Shoto which was _really_ out of character for him. Yes, he often had a surplus store of energy and was overenthusiastic about most topics, but that enthusiasm hardly ever translated over to anger.  
  


After coming to help him pack, he’d spilled _everything_. Apparently, he lived in the same village as the Todoroki’s. He’d made Enji’s acquaintance once upon a time, asking immediately for an autograph. The man in question, however, took one look at his ratty clothes and dirty face and wrote him off as some useless ruffian who’d never be worth anyone’s time or money. Shoto, who had been with his father at the time, completely ignored the interaction altogether and bypassed Inasa without a second glance.  
  


Understandably, Inasa soon assumed Shoto to be similar to Enji in many ways. He’d described them of having similar expressions and demeanors, which was why he hated Shoto with a burning passion same to Enji.  
  


Camie, however, thought breaking his nose was a _little_ extreme. They had a photo shoot coming up, too, and Shoto’s once beautiful face would be marred now by the swollen lump that was his nose.  
  


After Inasa’s departure, Camie realized she almost felt _lonely_ , somehow. She was closest with Inasa, and next to him was, of course, _Denki_. She’d been devastated by the fate he’d had to suffer, especially considering what he did wasn’t all that bad when you really thought about it.  
  


She’d lost her two closest friends since coming here, and she still couldn’t even be sure if she truly _loved_ Katsuki. She’d considered standing up and leaving outright just like Kyoka and Shiozaki had done, but an unnamable force had kept her rooted in her seat. In an odd way, Camie was almost _relieved_ to have been eliminated.  
  


A persistent knock on the door interrupted any further train of thought. Camie skipped over to the door, opening it wide to allow whoever it was knocking entrance.  
  


“Oh! Heya, Bakubabe,” she commented jovially. Her smile chipped away a moment later as she remembered how she’d first heard the nickname from _Denki_. “Uh, whatcha doin’ here?”  
  


Katsuki shuffled awkwardly in the middle of the room. “Came to say goodbye.”  
  


Camie nodded in understanding. “It’s getting a little late, though. How many of us do you still have left to visit?”  
  


“Five,” Katsuki replied briefly, sitting tersely at the edge of her bed. “How ya feeling?”  
  


Camie shrugged, “Not sure. I’m not really all that mad about my elimination—I really just think of you as a friend. Sorry.” Katsuki shrugged, looking unbothered by the notion. “But, y’know, I miss Inasa and Denks. I was closest to those two, ya feel me?”  
  


Katsuki flinched, directing his gaze firmly to the floor. “Tch. Yeah, I get what you mean. For some reason, I hate all these fucking eliminations.”  
  


Camie _beamed_ , “Aw! Is it cuz you’re gonna miss us?”  
  


“ _Hell_ no,” he replied firmly, glaring fiercely in her direction. Camie put her hands up in mock surrender, grinning all the while.  
  


“Careful, Blasty! Sometimes it kinda sounds like you _care_.”  
  


“ _Ha,_ you fucking _wish_ ,” he replied, smirking teasingly. “Ugh. I’m gonna have to put up with you fucking extras at my wedding, aren’t I?”  
  


“ _Duh_ ,” Camie replied earnestly. “Once you finally pull your head out of your _ass_ and realize you’ve been giving Kirishima heart-eyes since day one, fam.”  
  


Katsuki gaped, blushing fiercely. “There is _no_ fucking way—”  
  


“You’re definitely lying to yourself, man.”  
  


Katsuki huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t give people fucking ‘ _heart-eyes_ ’.”  
  


Camie snorted, “Tell that to your expression every time you see Kirishima.”  
  


Katsuki paused, “Do I really?”  
  


“ _Yes_.”  
  


Katsuki groaned, burying his head in his hands. “I fucking _like the color red_ , okay?”  
  


“Right, and my hair is green,” she deadpanned. “Seriously, fam, you’ve got it _bad_. Although Midoriya totes has a shot.”  
  


Katsuki _glared_. “How _dare_ you use a word as disgraceful as ‘ _totes_ ’ in my fucking presence.”  
  


“Totes.”  
  


“I am _disgusted_ , I am _revolted_ , I dedicate my entire life to our lord and savior _Jesus fucking Christ_ and _this_ is the thanks I get?!”  
  


“It’s only supposed to be _Jesus Christ_ —”  
  


“I say what I fucking want,” Katsuki shot back.  
  


Camie scoffed, “ _Not in a quote._ ”  
  


“Get out.”  
  


“This is _my room!_ ”

Katsuki gave her a blank look, “This is my palace. Hasta la whatever, bitch.”  
  


“First of all, _rude_ ,” Camie said, although Katsuki could tell she wasn’t upset by the telltale grin taking up a good majority of her face. “Second of all, _you quoted it wrong again!_ Ugh, you uncultured swine.”  
  


“You’re seriously calling me uncultured when you use words like ‘ _totes_ ’ and ‘ _fam_ ’?” Katsuki asked, quirking an eyebrow in question.  
  


“Stop hating on my vibes, man.”  
  


Katsuki stood up abruptly. “I’m leaving before your fucking hippie vibes infect me or what-fucking-ever.”  
  


“Is it physically possible for you to go five minutes without cussing?” Camie asked, genuinely curious.  
  


“No,” Katsuki deadpanned. “I hope you sleep like shit.”  
  


The door banged shut, cutting off the sound of infectious laughter coming from inside Camie’s room.

* * *

Momo had to admit she had been sorely tempted to up and leave when Katsuki had made the offer. The only thing keeping her in the palace was the unavoidable obligation she had to her family. She’d been entered unknowingly, by none other than her mother. Momo hadn’t discovered her mother had applied her for it until her name had been drawn on the Report.  
  


If she were to lose, which almost seemed like a hopeful inevitability, her parents would be _beyond_ disappointed. While she wasn’t quite ready to return and face her parent’s wrath, marrying someone she didn’t love seemed equally distasteful.  
  


There were no guarantee she would win, either way. She was, of course, going to put in her best efforts to win. _But_ if Katsuki were to ultimately decide on someone else, she had to admit she wouldn’t be at all disappointed. Maybe even a little _relieved_.  
  


Katsuki would no doubt make a fine husband one day, but there had never been a viable connection between the two of them. On their first date, the atmosphere had been noticeably awkward and stiff. If they were to marry, _every day_ would be like that. A life filled with unhappiness is no life at all, in Momo’s eyes.  
  


Speak—or think, in her case—of the devil, and he shall appear.  
  


Momo had hardly opened the door before Katsuki came trotting in, eyes dark with feasible tiredness. Momo felt how he looked—it was getting pretty late, actually.  
  


“Hey,” he greeted tiredly. “How’re you doing, I guess?”  
  


Momo shrugged, gingerly sitting at the edge of her bed. Now that she came to think of it, she hadn’t been particularly effected by a lot of the most recent eliminations. While everyone had been mentally scarred by Denki and Hitoshi’s public lashing that they’d been forced to watch, Momo hadn’t been particularly close to either of them. She was sure their untimely departure didn’t affect her as harshly as it did others.  
  


Plus, she wasn’t leaving, either. And while she was actually a little _upset_ over this, she wouldn’t dare utter any of her doubtful thoughts to Katsuki. He was the one she was having doubts about, after all.  
  


“Good,” she said. It was a half-truth, at least. “Glad to be staying.” That was a lie.  
  


Katsuki scowled. “No, you’re not.”  
  


She tilted her head, “What do you mean?”  
  


“Remember when that French blonde bitch got kicked out?” He asked rather than answering her question.  
  


“Um, yes?”  
  


“The reason I dismissed him is cuz he fucking lied to me, and it was written all over his punchable face.” He replied gruffly, scowling deeper. “The fucking point is I know when someone’s lying to me. Just like you are now.”  
  


Momo flinched at the observation, no doubt giving away the fact that he was right.  
  


“I suppose you’re right,” she said timidly, avoiding his intense crimson gaze. She could feel it drilling holes into the side of her head. “I don’t think I’m in love with you. But—but my parents would be disappointed . . .”  
  


Katsuki shrugged, “I’m not in love with you either, ponytail.” Momo was sorely tempted to point out the fact that she had her hair down, but rather bit her tongue. “But I can get over-expectant parent issues. The old hag’s always on my damn case about this and that—it gets fucking tiring. Stay, and maybe something’ll change. Or maybe you’ll realize I’m a fucking dick not worth marrying, oh well. You don’t gotta have all the answers now, y’know?”  
  


That was . . . surprisingly insightful. Momo blinked slowly at him in surprise.  
  


They continued to talk, and eventually Katsuki left. Momo felt lighter than she had before, knowing that Katsuki didn’t really expect anything specific of her.  
  


That was especially good, because Momo was _pretty sure_ she was lesbian, and would therefore _never_ fall in love with him.

* * *

Eijiro missed Denki.  
  


Every time he tried to distract himself from those sorts of thoughts, images of the blonde flashed through his mind. _He missed him_.  
  


Mina and Hanta weren’t faring much better according to what he’d heard. Hanta had gone quiet, only responding when he absolutely had to. Mina had lost most of her enthusiastic energy. She used to fill the room, but now all that was left was this gaping hole where that she used to fill with laughter.  
  


The dreary energy was infectious, spreading to each of the Selected in turn. Even some of the most vibrant competitors weren’t saved from the gloomy air wafting throughout the palace.  
  


Eijiro kept mostly to himself, occasionally deciding to visit Katsuki so neither of them felt lonely. Katsuki had, apparently, come to do the same for him. Yet, for different reasons.  
  


“Uh, Bakugou?” Eijiro asked groggily, having been just about to go to sleep. It was way past midnight, and they still had to wake up somewhat early for breakfast. “What are you doing here so late?”  
  


Katsuki invited himself in without a word, shoving past Eijiro and flopping face-first on the bed. The blonde was visibly bone tired, half-asleep on Eijiro’s bed.  
  


“You should sleep, man,” Eijiro persisted, lying down next to him regardless.  
  


Katsuki shook his head, “Gotta visit all the damn Selected tonight. Say goodbye ‘n shit like tha’.”  
  


Eijiro prodded his side, earning himself a slap to the hand from the groggy blonde beside him.  
  


“Sleep comes first,” he said firmly, which Katsuki promptly ignored.  
  


“Just tell me how you’re fucking doing, Eijiro.”  
  


Eijiro chuckled, laying down on his side for a more comfortable position.  
  


“Uh, I don’t know,” he replied earnestly. “I miss—well, you know. But I’m so glad that I’m staying—did I ever tell you I love you?”  
  


Katsuki blushed, grumbling, “You said it on _live fucking television_ , but no. Never said it right to my face before.”  
  


Eijiro grinned sheepishly. He leant over, kissing Katsuki’s burning cheek softly.  
  


“I love you, Katsuki.”  
  


His voice was hardly above a whisper, sending shivers down Katsuki’s spine. The blonde’s heart nearly skipped a beat, body reacting to Eijiro’s loving tone.  
  


Yet, he remained silent.  
  


Eijiro didn’t seem to mind, stroking a warm, calloused hand through Katsuki’s soft, blonde locks. Katsuki internally relished in the unadulterated display of affection, although he didn’t show it outwardly.  
  


As he felt himself drifting off, Katsuki sat bolt upright, scaring Eijiro.  
  


“Katsuki?” He said, repeating Katsuki’s given name almost on instinct. It made the blonde flush despite his greatest efforts. “What’s wrong?”  
  


Katsuki groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I still have to go see four more of you extras—tch. Good night, Eijiro.”  
  


Without even thinking about it, he pecked Eijiro on the lips before standing and leaving the room. His actions caught up with him moments later as he stood in the hallway outside Eijiro’s room, freaking out.  
  


Hopefully Mirio would kindly ignore Katsuki’s blush . . .

* * *

Mirio couldn’t stop smiling. He and Tamaki were getting _married_.  
  


Tamaki—his best friend since _forever_ who he’d been madly in love with since he’d first known what love even was.  
  


A love that he’d, strangely enough, never even felt with Katsuki.  
  


A sharp knock panged against his door, although _nothing_ could interrupt his good mood.  
  


Katsuki shielded his eyes when Mirio opened the door, muttering what sounded vaguely like, “Too bright.”  
  


“Someone looks pretty happy,” Katsuki commented lightly, although Mirio could hear the tiredness seeping into his tone. “I’m guessing it’s this supposed upcoming wedding of yours?”  
  


Mirio grinned from ear-to-ear. “Yup!”  
  


Katsuki hid his eyes again. “Stop that smiling shit, you’re blinding me.” Mirio chuckled. “You and Amajiki wasted no time in getting hitched, huh?”  
  


Mirio shrugged, still grinning, “May seem pretty quick to _you_. I’ve been in love with him since we were middle schoolers.”  
  


Katsuki nodded. “He said he only came here to fucking get over _you_ —seems the feelings fucking mutual.”  
  


Mirio’s face lit up as he processed the words.  
  


“Yeah?! That’s so cool! What else did he say?!” Mirio asked excitedly.  
  


Katsuki scowled, although the expression held none of its usual bite. He was just too fucking _tired_ to try and remember.  
  


“Fucking ask him yourself,” Katsuki snapped lightly. “I’m not your fucking messenger owl.”  
  


Mirio grinned nonetheless. “You look tired, Prince Bakugou,” he pointed out.  
  


He was spot on, of course.  
  


“I’m not fucking tired, dumbass,” Katsuki protested nonetheless.  
  


He was rather used to getting a decent amount of sleep, unless his workload had started piling. This was _way_ past when he _should_ be sleeping, but _no_. He was trying to be a _decent person_ for once.  
  


“You are.” Mirio replied firmly, pushing Katsuki toward the door. “I’ll be fine! I’m glad you visited, but you look bone tired. I’ll see you at your wedding!”  
  


“You better.”

* * *

Shoto felt an uncomfortable mix of emotions swirl anxiously in his stomach.  
  


He didn’t want to stay, but at the same time he didn’t want to _leave_. If he were to leave, father would surely be waiting. And he wouldn’t be happy about Shoto’s apparent failure.  
  


But he just had to accept the fact that there was no spark with Katsuki. In fact, Shoto had to admit he wasn’t all too fond of the blonde in general. He was similar to a toned down version of his father, in a way. If the stress got to him, there was a very real possibility that he could end up being _very_ similar to Enji.  
  


The thought scared him.  
  


Another reason he wanted to stay, though, was Izuku and by some extension, Ochaco. He’d recently opened up to the girl, spilling his entire life story in the span of a carriage ride. She’d taken the news graciously, comforting him once he’d finished and not daring to interrupt as he explained.  
  


It made him realize something—that being that Ochaco was _his_ friend. Not just Izuku’s. Tenya was, too. Shoto couldn’t recall the last time he’d had _friends_ , and he wasn’t sure how he ever managed to live without.  
  


He felt differently for Izuku than he did the others, and Shoto chalked that up to being because of the fact he was closer to the greenette than anyone else. Every time his heart fluttered or he felt heat rushing instinctually to his cheeks, he couldn’t make sense of his odd feelings. Why did his body react so vehemently whenever he were near Izuku? Is that how one felt about their best friend?  
  


Maybe he could ask Ochaco . . .  
  


Or would that be awkward considering the fact that Shoto considered Izuku to be his best friend and not Ochaco?  
  


Shit. Having friends was _hard_.  
  


A knock on the door interrupted his internal panic, which Shoto had to admit he was slightly grateful for. He wasn’t sure what to feel when he opened the door to the sight of Katsuki standing there.  
  


He looked . . . _tired_. Shoto was still trying to figure out whether it were in the literal or metaphorical sense when the blonde began to speak.  
  


“You just gonna stand and fucking stare?” Katsuki snapped without heat. “Shut the damn door.”  
  


Shoto obeyed. The door clicked shut softly behind him as he trod toward his bed. He sat graciously, trying to appear composed at the least, despite the late hour.  
  


“What are you doing here so late?” Shoto questioned, tone cold and clipped.  
  


Katsuki shrugged, “Came to see how you and everyone else is doing, I guess. Whatever.”  
  


“I’m fine,” Shoto replied, although he was a little less than _fine_.  
  


He still had troubles sleeping due to the incessant throbbing in his nose. He worked through the pain—nothing he wasn’t used to from his father, regardless.  
  


Along with that, the air was tense enough to cut with a butter knife. He hardly ever saw or heard from a majority of the bakusquad, minus during mealtimes. The Selected’s parlor was often unusually _empty_ , and being inside there with only two or three other people just made him feel especially weird.  
  


Perhaps fine was a relative term. But what other way was there to properly describe how Shoto felt? He was homesick, in a way. But where _was_ home?  
  


The only image that came to mind was Izuku.  
  


“Oi! Did you hear what I said?”  
  


Shoto, evidently, had _not_.  
  


“No, sorry,” he said shortly. “Could you repeat that?”  
  


Katsuki huffed, rolling his eyes. “What I _said_ was no one here is fucking fine.” He repeated. “And based on that damn dopey expression on your face, you aren’t either.”  
  


“I’m fine,” Shoto repeated stubbornly.  
  


“Sure. Whatever.” Katsuki replied, tone disbelieving. Luckily, he didn’t push the issue.  
  


“You seem tired,” Shoto pointed out obviously.  
  


“Yeah, I fucking guess so. Everyone’s been saying it.” Katsuki growled, seemingly annoyed at the observation. “Still gotta visit that blonde prick, and then I can pass out.”  
  


“What if he’s asleep?” Shoto asked curiously.  
  


Katsuki gave him a blank look. “Then I’ll fucking wake his ass up.”  
  


Shoto smiled thinly, “Don’t let me stop you. Go get some sleep—I’ll still be here in the morning, remember?”  
  


Katsuki nodded. Ordinarily, Shoto is pretty sure he would’ve tried to fight anyone who made it even _seem_ like they were trying to boss him around. Right now, it seems the persistent promise of sleep won out.  
  


The door clicked shut softly, leaving Shoto alone in a dark room with nothing but that insistent sloshing of emotions roiling in his stomach.

* * *

Everything was going nearly exactly according to plan. Katsuki wasn’t _nearly_ as interested in Neito as he hoped he would be, but he made it into the final _eight_. Ordinarily, there would be ten Elite, meaning that either Katsuki had really only chosen eight originally, or the other two left of their own volition, or force.  
  


It was probably the latter option.  
  


Neito relished in the fact that in him selling out Denki and Hitoshi’s relationship probably ended up knocking two very promising threats out of the competition. He was also pretty glad about the fact that Shiozaki had left and Tetsutetsu was eliminated. He would’ve hated to have had to sabotage one of them if it really came down to it.  
  


A persistent knocking on the door had him leaping up from his bed, wondering who it might be. Tetsutetsu, perhaps? No, he was probably asleep already. Kendo, then? Her sleep schedule had been royally fucked up ever since she accepted her new position as royal advisor.  
  


Much to his shock, and delight, it was rather _Katsuki_ who stood outside his door, in all his tired Pomeranian-like glory **(a/n: I just remembered Katsuki has a dog. W h o o p s)**.  
  


“Prince Bakugou!” Neito greeted enthusiastically, ushering him inside with a manic grin tugging at his lips. “What brings you hear so, err, late?”  
  


Katsuki blinked at him, “Why does it fucking matter? I’m here now, so fucking sit down.”  
  


Neito chuckled, but complied quickly nonetheless. “I’m glad! You came, I mean,” he replied, smiling shyly. His acting skills had certainly improved since coming here. “Although you look really tired. You sure you don’t need to sleep?”  
  


Katsuki yawned, “I’m not tired.” Neito raised an eyebrow in defiance. “I’m _not_. Shut the fuck up.”  
  


“Well,” Neito began, “is there anything in particular you came to say?”  
  


“Yeah, actually,” Katsuki replied. Neito raised a brow in question. “We’ve got a date in two days. Be there or be fucking square.”  
  


Neito couldn’t hold back his manic grin. Katsuki grimaced.  
  


“And no smiling on our date.” He said lightly, standing up. “I’m gonna go collapse in my bed and sleep ‘til fucking Tuesday. See ya.”  
  


Neito had to admit, he was a _little_ upset their conversation was so short. _But_ , he had another shot this coming Tuesday. Despite Katsuki’s teasing, he continued to grin.  
  


Sabotage was certainly in order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it seems like I'm kinda rushing the interactions at the end. I'm not doing it on purpose, but I was hella tired when I wrote this and ig brought that side of me out in Katsuki *shrugs*
> 
> Here's the list of the Elite, plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> To make it r e a l l y clear in the future, Momo, Todoroki, and Monoma all have clearly expressed they have N O interest in the Prince. Monoma is the only one who wants to marry him, but for other reasons. Everyone else that's left is either in love with him, or does have strong feelings. Hopefully no one was counting on Todobaku, Monoma x Bakugou, or Momo x Bakugou...
> 
> My headcanon for Momo is that she's lesbian, but like, none of the characters on the show have their sexualities confirmed so anything anyone says is just speculation and personal opinion, really.
> 
> The bakusquad is just sO sAd and it makes me sad :< In the books, I don't recall the recovery period being this drawn out. But, like, I can't imagine just losing your best friend like that and then getting over it completely a few days later--I don't want them to be sad anymoreeee but I feel that it'd be weird if one day they just woke and were over it.
> 
> At first I was having fun with the interactions and then I got tired so I made Katsuki tired. Now he's real sleepy at the end, so *shrugs*
> 
> Also, Mina is a literal badass and no one can change my mind.
> 
> We have a lot of dates coming up soon cuz I realize I haven't done those in a while. We're also gonna hear from Iida again :D
> 
> Next chapter will be out on Friday, BUT I have six hours of driver's ed every day and absolutely no motivation, so there's a chance it might be short.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this update ;P


	36. Sabotage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it seems short or rushed, driver's ed has been a bitch. I've had a test every day this week, and it's a miracle I kept up good grades
> 
> Enjoy, regardless!

Denki was tired.  
  


A part of him understood that it was just _weird_ for him to be sleeping this much, but another part of him just wanted to pass out for a week. Of course he _couldn’t_ —he knew Hitoshi had been sacrificing a detrimental amount of sleep in order to take care of him. It showed in his sluggish movements, and how his back was taking longer to heal.  
  


“Hey, babe,” Denki called. Hitoshi turned to him, quirking an eyebrow in question. Denki gulped, “Let me take the night shift tonight, okay? You need the sleep.”  
  


Hitoshi looked skeptical, to say the least.  
  


“I don’t know, Denki,” he replied unsurely. “You need your rest, too.”  
  


Denki narrowed his eyes, “ _You’re_ the one with the infection, ‘Toshi. C’mon, just the next couple nights? Please?”  
  


Hitoshi’s expression faltered slightly at the sight of Denki’s meager attempts at puppy dog eyes. Apparently, even while bone tired and bedragged, they were still in nearly full effect.  
  


“No.”  
  


Or maybe not.  
  


“No?” Denki pouted, “But baaaabe. I’ve definitely been sleeping a hell of a lot more than you have! What about just tonight?”  
  


He pushed his bottom lip out, widening his eyes and staring Hitoshi down. At the sound of Hitoshi’s exasperated sigh, Denki knew he’d won.  
  


“Fine,” Hitoshi relented. “But _only_ tonight. Other nights, let me keep watch, okay?”  
  


“Okay!” Denki chirped, already knowing he definitely wasn’t going to keep his word on that one. “C’mere.”  
  


Hitoshi looked confused, but complied nonetheless. He scooched over slightly, with Denki pulling him the rest of the way over so they were snuggled up comfortably at each other’s side.  
  


He methodically combed his hands through Hitoshi’s wild mane of violet hair, which had started to droop over time. The gel was all but gone, and it was slightly greasy at the roots, but it was _Hitoshi_ and there was no way Denki was missing out on cuddles. No matter how much both of them reek.  
  


Denki hummed a soft tune near Hitoshi’s ear, visibly calming the taller boy. Hitoshi leaned his head on Denki’s lap, shutting his eyes to the soothing tones of Denki’s voice.  
  


He fell asleep that way, curled up in the arms of his lover, clinging to the one thing that continued to matter despite every odd.

* * *

Neito had a date today, and he had to make extra sure nothing went wrong. Finding dirt out on the Selected had been particularly hard, considering quite a few of them had squeaky clean records as far as he’d checked. Shoto, however, was a glaring exception.  
  


The story that the random carriage driver he’d employed about Shoto and his daddy issues really helped tip the scale in Neito’s favor. Shoto was a frontrunner by far, especially in terms of popularity polls. If he could get him eliminated, that would only bring him one step closer to his eventual goal towards earning the crown.  
  


The other three he worried about the most was Momo, Izuku, and Eijiro. All of whom were near impossible to gather gossip about. He’d talked to a good majority of the palace staff, and turned up with _nothing_.  
  


The most he could find on Momo was the tense relationship between her and her parents, but that wouldn’t be nearly enough to get her eliminated altogether.  
  


Izuku was a particularly charitable spirit, who helped the lower castes in his village even when he was struggling on his own. His dad had, apparently, left when he was young. Neito was still looking into exactly _who_ Hisashi Midoriya _was_.  
  


Eijiro, as well, was a perfectly clean slate. Broad-shouldered, and charming, with charisma for _days_. He’d done particularly poor in school, Neito had noticed, whereas both Izuku and Momo had been near top of their class. Once again, that could be a casting issue, and _not_ something worth getting eliminated over.  
  


But, every detail counted.  
  


“Uh, S-Sir.”  
  


Neito’s silver gaze flickered menacingly towards one of his maids.  
  


“Yes?” He snapped, impatient.  
  


The girl—whose name he hadn’t bothered to remember—shivered. “I came to get you ready for your d-date.”  
  


Neito stood, his height easily towering over his maid’s own menacingly.  
  


“Let’s get to it, then, Hana,” he ordered.  
  


She gulped, “It’s, um, Hina.”  
  


Neito glared, “Did I ask?” She shook her head frantically. “Exactly. Let’s go.”  
  


She scampered off immediately, disappearing in the abyss of his closet, coming out moments later. She had an outfit in hand for him to wear, and offered it cautiously for Neito’s approval.  
  


“Gray? Really? To—what— _match my eyes_?” He barked, Hina flinching away. “Boring. Give me something black—something to make me look especially alluring.”  
  


Hina nodded, “On it, Sir.” She chirped nervously, rushing back into the depths of his closet.  
  


When she came out next, she had a smart black suit with no tie. Neito begrudgingly approved, sending her out of the room with a flick of his wrist.  
  


He didn’t much like any of his maids, and they didn’t like him. Hani—or whatever her name was—was easily the most skittish of the three. Yui—maybe?—was a lot more confident, garnering her a great deal more respect than her underlings.  
  


Lastly, was—oh god—Hitori? She was mute, he learned quickly, and easily forgettable. She did her work diligently and on time, but overall managed to fade into the background. Neito didn’t mind, since he didn’t know sign language regardless and had no proper way of communicating with her. Not that he’d want to, anyways.  
  


After getting changed, he stomped out of his room, confidence oozing from every inch of his skin. He strutted through the halls like he owned the place, which hopefully he soon would. Servants and guards alike skittered away as he approached, his reputation proceeding him throughout the palace in a relatively short amount of time.  
  


Neito smirked.  
  


He arrived fifteen minutes early, entirely unsurprised by Katsuki’s presence having beaten him there. The blonde either seem entirely swamped with work, or had far too much free time. That, or he often procrastinated. Neito wouldn’t be much surprised if it were the latter.  
  


“Prince Bakugou,” Neito greeted politely, bobbing his head. “Early as ever, I see.”  
  


Katsuki checked his watch briefly, scowling. “Yeah, and you made me wait a fucking half hour. Try walking faster next time.”  
  


Neito grit his teeth, smiling through the frustration.  
  


“Last I checked,” he began nonchalantly, “I was fifteen minutes early. You _are_ royalty, you know. Why shouldn’t I be waiting on you?”  
  


Katsuki pondered the statement, not bothering to mask his frustration. Then again, he was near _always_ frustrated.  
  


“Whatever,” he decided on. “Just sit down. I’m fucking hungry—and we’re eating the good shit.”  
  


“Something spicy?” Neito guessed.  
  


Katsuki grinned wolfishly, “You know it.”  
  


Neito sat graciously at one end of the table, Katsuki easily slumping into the seat across from him. The ash blonde dug into his food, hardly caring over continuing the conversation.  
  


Neito picked at his plate, considering ways to direct the conversation in his favor.  
  


“I suppose it was hard, yes?” Katsuki raised an eyebrow in question, still munching rhythmically at his dinner. “Choosing the Elite, I mean.”  
  


Katsuki swallowed his bite of food. “Yeah,” he grunted. “But I didn’t feel it with those other extras.”  
  


Neito hesitated. He knew he had to tread carefully with this ongoing conversation.  
  


If he played his cards right, he could direct the conversation to a point where he could lay out the dirt he’d gathered on his competitors. To Katsuki, he needed to seem concerned more for his well-being than winning, which honestly couldn’t be further from the truth. He hadn’t been a part-time actor for _several_ years for nothing, after all.  
  


“Does that mean you do feel something with me?” Neito asked, forcing a hint of hope to seep into his expression.  
  


Katsuki shrugged, “It means I have the capacity to, I guess. I’m not in love yet, or else I’d be announcing my fucking wedding. Not the damn Elite.”  
  


Neito paused to take a small sip of wine, processing the words as they fell easily from Katsuki’s lips.  
  


Neito leaned forwards slightly, grinning. “Do you have a favorite, though?”  
  


Katsuki grimaced, leaning back despite the length of table between them.  
  


“Dunno.” He said simply, picking mindlessly at his food. “Some of those other extras seemed to think I do, though.”  
  


Neito nodded, barely containing his scowl. “Kirishima.”  
  


“Don’t sound too fucking happy about it,” Katsuki muttered sarcastically, making it apparent that Neito hadn’t hid his disdain as well as he’d hoped. “Yeah, I’ve kissed him a couple times.”  
  


Neito reeled. _A couple?!  
  
_

“But,” Katsuki continued, seemingly oblivious to Neito’s odd mixture of shock and jealousy. “I kissed Deku, too. Cuz it felt right in the fucking moment, so ‘til I get a moment like that with the others, they’ll have to fucking wait their turn. Doesn’t mean they’re my so-called favorite or whatever.”  
  


“Wait, wait, wait,” Neito said, holding up a hand. “You kissed Kirishima _multiple times?!_ ”  
  


Katsuki blinked in mild surprise. “Um, yeah? Got a fucking problem?”  
  


“I thought you two only kissed at your mother’s banquet, though?” Neito said, although it came out sounding more like a question.  
  


He dismissed the notion quickly with a wave of his hand, “I fucking kissed him right before, too.”  
  


Neito gaped, mind _reeling_. Yeah, practically everyone saw Eijiro kiss Katsuki on the Queen’s birthday. It was common knowledge but—this supposed _second_ kiss _definitely_ wasn’t. Especially considering Katsuki apparently initiated.  
  


Eijiro _needed_ to become a top priority.  
  


“ _Sheesh_ , okay,” Neito rambled, “our next date needs to be _way_ more romantic. You’re not sitting a whole table length away from me.”  
  


And Katsuki _laughed_. Neito hadn’t exactly been expecting it, especially since he hadn’t thought he’d said that out loud.  
  


“Hey! Why are you laughing?” Neito asked.  
  


Katsuki merely laughed harder, “Could you _be_ any less fucking obvious?”  
  


Neito flushed, mouth falling open and shut as he tried to think up a respectable response.  
  


“ _In my defense_ ,” he stated defensively, “I hadn’t intended on saying that out loud.”  
  


“Did ya pick that one up from Deku?”  
  


“Uh, who’s Deku?” Neito asked.  
  


He didn’t recall any staff named Deku, and he was fairly familiar with a good majority of the staff. It _definitely_ wasn’t the name of one of the Selected, and Neito was fairly certain none of the Akuyakuan went by that name, either.  
  


“Izuku,” Katsuki clarified.  
  


 _Oh_ , yeah, that made more sense.  
  


“That means useless, doesn’t it?” Neito questioned.  
  


Katsuki scowled, “Are you implying he’s useless?”  
  


“Are you?” Neito fired back easily.  
  


“Of fucking course not,” Katsuki growled, huffing petulantly. “Whatever. I hate all of you fucking extras equally.”  
  


“Out of curiosity, though,” Neito began. Katsuki shot him a wary look, but didn’t interrupt. “It’s about Todoroki—why him? I get he’s attractive, I’d be _blind_ not to notice, but he’s really closed off.”  
  


Katsuki shrugged, “I guess that’s a part of it. I wanna know what his deal is.”  
  


Neito shuffled nervously, biting his lip.  
  


“The walls have ears, you know,” he whispered conspiratorially. “I hear my maids’ gossip a lot—all the maids do it. Whole staff does, really.”  
  


“What about it?” Katsuki asked warily, side-eying Neito suspiciously.  
  


Obviously, Yuuga Aoyama had tried the same thing and got sent home for it. Fortunately, there was nothing for Neito to lie about. He made it a point to find _facts_ about his competitors to use against them.  
  


“Todoroki may not be all he seems,” Neito commented ominously, sighing when Katsuki gave him a blank look. “He’s not here for you, Prince Bakugou. I brought him up because I’m trying to look out for you. Don’t get so caught up in the mystery that you fall for someone with nothing but an ulterior motive.”  
  


He pulled out the doe eyes, pushing back the feeling of being a major hypocrite. His conscience could wait until _after_ he won.  
  


Katsuki studied him intently, clearly looking for some kind of mistruth. He nodded, after clearly finding none.  
  


“I’ll look into it.”  
  


Neito smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know that Monoma is, like, the 'bad guy'ish of this, but I literally love him. In the show, and in this fic.
> 
> Driver's ed ends tomorrow! Yay :D although I have a 200 question quiz so wish me luck TwT
> 
> SO I realize Maxon probably has kissed like all the girls except Kriss by this point in the books, so we might have some of Katsuki's first kisses coming up with different characters soon, possibly.
> 
> For those of you who have read the books, some of the characters have similar roles to the girl's in the story. Denki is obviously Marlee--she's the one who got caned in the books, poor girl :,< Also, Monoma is Celeste. We been knew.
> 
> Here's the list of the Elite, plus their former caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> Next chapter is another Report chapter! Yay! Maybe we'll see some of Present Mic's new protégé ;)
> 
> I'll have that chapter on Tuesday ^^


	37. The Report 2.0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! And with another Report chapter! 
> 
> In other news, for anyone who cares, I passed my Driver's Ed test somehow :D I'm gonna be driving soon, and isn't that a scary thought?
> 
> Enjoy!

Kyoka shuffled nervously, glancing around as the staff began setting up to film.  
  


“Don’t be nervous!” Yamada said exuberantly, bumping her shoulder. “You’re not even gonna be on-screen, so there’s nothing to worry about.”  
  


“I _know_ ,” Kyoka groaned, burying her head in her hands. “But it’s—it’s _weird_. Thinking on the other side of things, I guess.”  
  


Yamada nodded along, as if he understood perfectly. Which, Kyoka belatedly realized, he probably _did_. It was hard to think of Yamada ever being this nervous over something like this, since he always seemed so in his element on air. Kyoka struggled to think of herself in his shoes, one day.  
  


“I get it, Jiro,” he said, nodding sagely. “Just keep your eyes on me, and take deep breaths, okay? Don’t worry too much about trying to turn this into a learning experience just yet, right? I won’t be retiring for a while, so you have plenty of time to learn. There’s no rush.”  
  


Kyoka listened, taking a deep breath and trying to steel herself. He was _right_. She wasn’t going to be doing anything particularly interesting for a _while_ , so there was no use panicking.  
  


She hardly noticed the Elite come in, so caught up in trying to cool off.  
  


“Kyoka?”  
  


Kyoka snapped her eyes open, being met with the sight of a slightly surprised Momo.  
  


“Oh, uh, Yaomomo, hey!” She said nervously, twisting a strand of hair.  
  


Momo blinked, “What are you doing here?” She paused, “Not that I’m upset about it, or anything! It’s just, well, you walked out, so . . .”  
  


Kyoka chuckled nervously, “Yeah, well, I’m actually Hizashi’s official co-host, now, so I’ll be around a lot.”  
  


Momo beamed, pulling Kyoka into a surprising but much appreciated hug. “That’s great! I’ll see you around, then?”  
  


Kyoka nodded in confirmation, easily returning the smile. “Definitely.”  
  


Momo walked away then, moving to take a seat beside Shoto at the end of the front row.  
  


Yamada approached her, clicking his tongue. “Is that a blush I spy, Jiro?” He asked teasingly.  
  


“You’re delusional,” Kyoka bit back, receiving bubbly laughter in response.  
  


“Careful, she’s _technically_ taken, in a way.” He reminded her, tone taking on a serious edge.  
  


Kyoka bit the inside of her cheek, trying to stifle her nerves. “I know.” She replied quietly. “I’d never make a move on her, you know. But, I have to admit, she’s the reason I ultimately left the Selection altogether.”  
  


“Because you felt a deeper connection with her than the Prince?” He guessed.  
  


Kyoka shrugged, “Because I felt a connection with her, and _nothing_ with the Prince.”  
  


Yamada smiled softly, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You made the right choice. If she doesn’t win, you’ve still got a shot.”  
  


Kyoka nodded.  
  


“Sixty seconds!” Someone called out a reminder.  
  


Yamada winced, grinning apologetically, “Remember, don’t panic, okay? Go over and stand with Shouta—if you feel nervous, look at or think of something that calms you. Perhaps that Yaoyorozu girl?”  
  


He raised his eyebrows suggestively. Kyoka’s face erupted in a telltale blush.  
  


“Shut up. Don’t you have a show to host?” She snapped, turning her face away from Yamada’s so he wouldn’t notice the blush. Of course, he noticed regardless.  
  


“Sure thing, little co-host. See ya later!” And with that, he was gone.  
  


He slid into his arm chair, looking perfectly comfortable sitting in front of dozens of cameras and spotlights. Kyoka skittered off to stand anxiously at Aizawa’s side, side-eying Momo’s profile to keep her calm.  
  


If Yamada ever asked, she’d definitely deny doing so.  
  


“Heya, little listeners! Back at it again with a new segment this week,” Yamada greeted exuberantly, grinning from ear-to-ear as he stared directly into the camera. “First things first, let’s hand it off to our beloved Queen—Mitsuki Bakugou!”  
  


The woman herself stood tall as she walked toward the center of the room, back impeccably straight and shoulders held back confidently. She looked completely undaunted by the fact she was giving a live announcement to the whole of the country.  
  


“Thank you, Hizashi,” she said in as warm of tones Kyoka was used to hearing from her.  
  


She continued on with her speech, which Kyoka realized was clearly scripted. Her voice lacked conviction. She mentioned nothing worthwhile going on, but Kyoka knew for a fact there was more than she was letting on. What kind of secrets had the royal family been hiding from everyone for so long?  
  


“Thank you, Your Highness! What an invigorating speech!” Yamada cheered, positively beaming. The smile, though, seemed a bit strained.  
  


Huh.  
  


“Now, as I’m sure many of you have heard, our very own Prince Katsuki Bakugou has announced the Elite! Isn’t it just _so_ exciting?” Kyoka noticed he was trying to get everyone hyped—draw more attention to the ongoing Selection than anything else. To the people, this _was_ the most major event currently taking place. “Let’s hear a bit from them on how they’re feeling, yeah? Momo! Mind coming up here for some insight?”  
  


Momo nodded politely, smiling graciously. She stood, and walked to Yamada’s side before taking a seat, posture stiff.  
  


“Gladly, Hizashi,” she said kindly, smile hardly fading. “What would you like to know?”  
  


“Your thoughts, of course! How are you feeling? What was it like being chosen as one of the _Elite_? What are your opinions regarding this new development? How do you feel about your fellow competitors? Do you think you have a likely shot at winning the Prince’s heart singularly? Do tell!”  
  


Momo chuckled nervously, fiddling with a curled lock of hair.  
  


“Well, yes, there’s certainly much to discuss. I have to say that I feel . . . grateful, above all else. To have this opportunity in the first place, but also to have made it so far!”  
  


“Grateful, eh? Completely understandable! I recall when I was first offered this position,” Yamada regaled, eyes glimmering with nostalgia. “I was _ecstatic_! And so, _so_ grateful for the opportunity! It opened so many doors for my future, and the same is true for you. Even if you don’t win, you’ll certainly be one to remember!”  
  


Momo nodded enthusiastically, “Oh, I’m sure. While I appreciate the life I lived back home, perhaps this could open up the chance of me finding a more respectable job and a loving spouse. I’ve heard most of the men and women who left here ended up getting married only two or three days after returning home!”  
  


“I as well,” Yamada agreed. “No doubt a young lady as beautiful and talented as yourself will have no trouble paving a bright future for yourself. I wish you the best of luck for the future!”  
  


“Thank you, Hizashi. It truly means a lot, hearing that from you,” Momo said, smiling earnestly.  
  


Yamada returned the grin, “Unfortunately, that’s all the time we have together for today. It was truly a pleasure, Momo.”  
  


Momo nodded her acknowledgement, beginning to stand. “Absolutely, Hizashi. Thank you for your time.”  
  


Yamada leaned forwards slightly, “Could you send over Shoto next?”  
  


Momo nodded minutely, returning to where she was sitting before. She leaned towards Shoto, muttering something in his ear. The boy stood immediately after, shuffling over to take a seat besides Yamada.  
  


“Shoto! What a pleasure!” Yamada greeted enthusiastically. Shoto blinked. “How are you doing, little listener? And what happened to your nose?!”  
  


Shoto shrugged, side-eying Kyoka, and simultaneously ignoring both of Yamada’s questions. “Uh, why is Jiro here?”  
  


Yamada coughed into his hand, barely containing his laughter. Kyoka hid her red face in her hands, sighing loudly.  
  


“That’s a story for another time, listener,” Yamada replied, voice strained. He was _enjoying_ this, the bastard. “I’d rather us a talk a bit more about you, actually! How’re you feeling since being chosen as a member of the Elite?”  
  


Yet again, Shoto shrugged, “Happy, I suppose.”  
  


Yamada paused, “You _suppose_?”  
  


Shoto nodded, “Yes.  
  


Yamada hesitated, squandering for a way to pick back up the overall droll conversation.  
  


“And? Well, how do you feel in terms of your current competitors?” Yamada questioned.  
  


Shoto pondered the question, leaning back in his seat as he thought it over.  
  


“I’ve made promising friendships with a small number of my competitors,” he admitted, voice still remaining mostly toneless. “If I weren’t to win, I’d wish the best for the two of them.”  
  


Yamada grinned at the blatant display of comradery. “That’s great to hear! I love hearing that the Selected are all getting along!”  
  


“I guess.”  
  


Yamada sighed. Yeah, Shoto was good-looking, but he made for _bad_ TV.  
  


“Sadly, I think that’s just about all the time we have here today,” Yamada said, forcing his voice to take on a sad tone. Technically, he _was_ cutting them off a little short, but what Shoto didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. “Mind sending Izuku over here for me?”  
  


For a reason Yamada didn’t bother trying to decipher, Shoto’s eyes lit up slightly upon hearing Izuku’s name.  
  


He trudged back to his former seat, leaning into Izuku’s personal space and murmuring something in the greenette’s ear. Izuku nodded, offering Shoto a small smile and earning one in return.  
  


Izuku made his way over, shaking from head to toe as he took a seat. Mostly, he fell into the chair, and took a deep breath, but Yamada decided not to call him out on it.  
  


“Heya, little listener! How ya feeling after that big announcement?” Yamada asked. Kyoka noticed his volume was more in check than before, and probably to keep from spooking Izuku.  
  


Izuku offered him a shaky smile. “Oh, uh, g-g-great! I w-wasn’t expecting t-to make it th-this f-f-far, really.”  
  


Kyoka winced in sympathy. She’d talked to Izuku on countless occasions, and he was always so kind and sympathetic. Clearly, the publicity had his nerves shot.  
  


Yamada cocked an eyebrow, “Is that so? Can’t say I’m surprised in the slightest! First kiss always manages to go a long way in my experience, you know.”  
  


“You’ve o-only been a-a-around for the K-King’s S-S-Selection, though,” Izuku pointed out shyly.  
  


Yamada winked, “And his first kiss is now our Queen.”  
  


Izuku’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “F-Fair,” he amended.  
  


“Speaking of the Queen,” Yamada continued. “What are your thoughts on her? There _is_ a very probable chance you could become her son-in-law soon!”  
  


Izuku’s eyes lit up in a telling manner. “Oh, she’s g-great! We’ve t-t-talked a few t-times, m-m-mostly a-about what it w-was like b-b-back home. W-We came f-from the s-s-same village, if y-you can b-b-believe i-it.”  
  


Yamada’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Really?! This is news to me! Which village are you from, again, listener?”  
  


“Um, M-Musutafu, s-sir,” Izuku stuttered out abashedly.  
  


Yamada waved off the formal nickname. “No need to call me ‘sir’. I’m not _that_ old!”  
  


“Yes you are, Hizashi,” Aizawa deadpanned from across the room.  
  


Yamada pouted, shouting his protests. The loud noise had poor Izuku shrinking back in his seat.  
  


“Sorry, listener!” Yamada apologized profusely. Izuku offered him a wobbly smile and tried to fruitlessly wave off Yamada’s concern. “I’m not old, though, am I?”  
  


Izuku looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “No! N-No of c-c-course not!”  
  


Yamada side-eyed the boy, “You don’t sound too sure, Izuku.”  
  


Izuku buried his face in his hands, groaning. “S-S-Stop putting m-me on th-the s-s-spot!”  
  


Yamada clapped his shoulder, smiling good-naturedly. “Just teasing, little listener! And I think that’s just about all the time we have together today!”  
  


Izuku peeled his hands away from his face. “Uh, th-thank you f-f-for your t-time, s-sir!”  
  


Yamada groaned, muttering, “Again with the ‘sir’?” He turned to Izuku. “Be a dear and send Ochaco my way, will you?”  
  


Izuku nodded stiffly, walking towards his seat and plopping down. He tapped Ochaco’s shoulder, then pointed at Yamada. The brunette quickly picked up the message, hopping to her feet and practically skipping towards her seat.  
  


“Hey, Hizashi!” She chirped. Yamada practically beamed at her enthusiasm. “Thanks for having me!”  
  


“Pleasure’s all mine, Ochaco!” He replied in equally as warm of tones. “How ya doing after finding out the Prince chose _you_ as a member of the Elite?!”  
  


Ochaco pumped her fist, rising slightly from her seat. “Invigorated!” She exclaimed. “After Tenya left, I was really upset, especially cuz of the circumstances. And then . . . well, you know . . .”  
  


Kyoka winced.  
  


“Anyways!” Ochaco hurriedly continued, “Things have just been real down in the dumps lately, and I’ve nearly forgotten my reasoning for being here. Having the group being narrowed down so suddenly reminded me that I’m here to get married, and I’m more pumped than ever! Yeah!”  
  


“Yeah!” Yamada cheered along, whooping. “I love your spirit, Ochaco! Best of luck!”  
  


Ochaco positively _beamed_ , “Thanks, Hizashi! This competition’s got me all fired up.”  
  


Yamada chuckled, “I can tell. Out of curiosity—if you didn’t win, who would you hope to win in your stead?”  
  


“Deku!” She answered right away. “Izuku, I mean. He and Prince Bakugou are _adorable_ together, he even has a _nickname_ for him.”  
  


Yamada’s eyebrows jumped straight to his hairline. He looked towards the greenette, who was unsuccessfully trying to bury himself in Shoto’s shoulder.  
  


“What’s the nickname?!” Yamada asked, leaning forwards in his seat. Ochaco pressed her lips together tightly. “Oh, come on, you can’t say something like that and _not_ tell us the details!”  
  


“Oh, well, alright!” Ochaco conceded. “He called him ‘ _Kacchan_ ’. It was so _cute_!”  
  


Yamada squealed, completely unashamed. “Does anyone else have nicknames for him?”  
  


Ochaco shrugged, “Most of the bakusquad calls him ‘Blasty’ a lot of the time. One time, Ka—”  
  


She cut herself off abruptly, jaw clicking shut audibly.  
  


“Never mind,” she muttered, frowning.  
  


Yamada pat her shoulder softly, motioning that she could return to her seat if she wanted to. Ochaco nodded, standing and walking back to sit at Izuku’s side. The greenette placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, offering comfort if she needed as much.  
  


Yamada cleared his throat hesitantly. “Hanta, come on over next, yeah?”  
  


Hanta stood, shuffling over dejectedly to sit by Yamada’s side.  
  


“How are you doing, little listener?”  
  


Hanta thought about it. His mouth opened and closed several times, as if he had something to say but couldn’t figure the words to say to get the meaning across.  
  


“Fine,” he decided on. “I mean—y’know, I’m really glad for this opportunity. I _really_ like Ba— _Prince_ Bakugou. I miss my friends, though.”  
  


Or one friend, in particular. Kyoka felt deeply for him.  
  


“I understand. Those may seem like empty words but, they’re not. Had a friend named Oboro Shirakumo—real good guy. It’s a long story, but, he’s not around anymore. Miss him like _crazy_.”  
  


Hanta fixed him with a sad look, “Why are you telling me this?”  
  


“Because you need to hear it, little listener.” Yamada smiled gently, patting Hanta on the back. “I think we all need some words of comfort after what you all were forced to witness.”  
  


Hanta blinked away the quickly forming tears, returning the grin with a wobbly one of his own. “Yeah. Thanks, Hizashi.”  
  


Yamada’s grin grew, ever-so-slightly, “Any time. And hey, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to come to me or Shouta, okay?”  
  


Hanta nodded quickly, “Absolutely. Still owe Aizawa big time for helping me out of a bad place.”  
  


Yamada cocked a brow in surprise. “Is that so?” He turned his head in Aizawa’s direction, “And _why_ haven’t I heard about this?”  
  


Aizawa scoffed, “I don’t have to share _everything_ with you, Hizashi.”  
  


Hizashi cried out dramatically, placing a hand on his heart in mock hurt. “And here I was thinking we were supposed to be _honest_ with one another.”  
  


Aizawa rolled his eyes, “Quit your whining, ‘Zashi. You have a show to host, remember?”  
  


Hizashi turned his eyes back towards the camera, wiping away imaginary tears.  
  


“Sorry for the interruption, little listeners. Just discovered my husband’s actually a horrible person.”  
  


“You’re realizing this _now_?” Hanta questioned jokingly.  
  


“Remember five minutes ago when you were talking about _thanking me_?” Aizawa chimed in sarcastically.  
  


“Wasn’t me,” Hanta denied firmly.  
  


Aizawa sighed. Hanta couldn’t hold back his grin.  
  


“Aw, I think we’ve made enough fun of my husband for one night,” Yamada cut their banter off, chuckling lowly. “Sadly, that’s all the time we have together. Pleasure having you here tonight, Hanta!”  
  


“Thank you for your time,” Hanta replied graciously, bowing his head. “And thank you, in general.”  
  


Yamada’s grin softened, “Of course. I mean what I said—if you need anything, my doors always open. Mind sending Mina my way?”  
  


Hanta shot him an infectious grin and a thumbs up, making his way back to Mina’s side. The pink-haired girl didn’t bother waiting for Hanta to talk to her, instead stood up as soon as he sat, striding towards Yamada with a cool air of confidence.  
  


“Hey, listener!” Yamada greeted exuberantly. Mina offered him a blinding grin in return, which Yamada easily matched. “Glad to have you!”  
  


“Oh, glad to be here, Hizashi!” She chirped excitedly, enthusiasm reminding Yamada’s easily of Ochaco’s. “Jeez, I’m buzzing with excitement. Or maybe it’s nerves. Kinda similar, aren’t they?”  
  


Yamada nodded, “Sure are. If you tell yourself you’re simply excited, the feeling translates easier to excitement than nervousness.”  
  


“Huh, good advice,” she commented lightly. “Sure you’re chock full of it in this kinda profession. I’d be a bundle of nerves if I were you.”  
  


“Yeah, well, it was hard at first,” Yamada admitted sheepishly. “I’d been watching my predecessor for _years_ and still found myself floundering for how to keep the ball rolling my first time. Just got better with time, y’know?”  
  


“Oh, yeah, totally!” Mina agreed immediately. “My first time dancing, my ma told me I looked like a chicken with my head chopped off. I didn’t get really serious ‘bout it ‘til I was older, but soon as I did, I was a natural. Hard work really does pay off, in the end.”  
  


“How long have you been dancing?” Yamada inquired.  
  


“Oh, gosh, _years_. Can’t remember since when, but pretty much since I could walk. My parents had me get into all kinds of artsy stuff to try and discover something I was passionate about. Dance has always been the easiest way for me to express myself.”  
  


“What other hobbies did you consider?” Yamada questioned further. Mina seemed to enjoy the topic, clearly.  
  


“Painting, singing, piano, guitar, violin, and—oh, well, most instruments, really,” she listed off. “At first, I kept up with singing, guitar and dance. Eventually, I kept all my focus on dance to help further my future career. One of my friends’ parents own a studio, so I practice there for free _all_ the time.”  
  


“Seems like you’re really passionate about dancing! I love it!” He exclaimed, earning an excited “Yeah!” from Mina. “Wish I had a hobby I was that into. Mostly, I just enjoy annoying Shouta.”  
  


“You do a great job of it,” Aizawa muttered.  
  


Mina giggled, Yamada joining in soon after.  
  


“Oh, you two make such a cute couple!” She gushed.  
  


Aizawa lifted an eyebrow in question, “Why, because he constantly annoys me?”  
  


“I do not!” Yamada protested.  
  


“You just admitted to it. On live television, no less.” Aizawa deadpanned.  
  


Mina pointed at Aizawa, pursing her lips. “He has a point.”  
  


“Betrayal! Betrayal of the highest degree!” Yamada whined, pouting and throwing his hand over his forehead dramatically. “Bring Eijiro over instead. At least he’ll be nice to me.”  
  


“Anyone with common sense wouldn’t bother being nice to you.” Aizawa countered.  
  


“See what I have to put up with?” He asked, face turned towards the camera.  
  


Kyoka was having a fit, doubled over on the floor in laughter. She’d been around the couple often enough to know that they were _always_ like this, and she couldn’t help but think they made for a great pair.  
  


Mina, still laughing madly, shuffled over and tapped Eijiro’s shoulder. Eijiro stood, quickly getting the message and bounding over to Yamada’s side before taking a seat in the plush armchair.  
  


Yamada pouted, “Eijiro, you’re not gonna make fun of me, right?”  
  


Eijiro put a hand on his chin, seemingly deep in thought. “That’s . . . _debatable_.”  
  


Yamada wailed dramatically, going on about how no one was nice to him anymore. Kyoka could barely _breathe_.  
  


“Don’t let him see you laughing like this, kid,” Aizawa muttered. “It’ll only inflate his ego.”  
  


Kyoka coughed, trying to contain her laughter, “I think it's already inflated _enough_ , really.”  
  


“Well!” Yamada said loudly, wiping fake tears from his eyes. “Now that I know all of the people I _don’t_ want to win . . .”  
  


Eijiro pat his back, grinning infectiously. “Sorry, man, just couldn’t resist.”  
  


Yamada huffed petulantly, barely suppressing his own smile. “Top ten anime betrayals.”  
  


“Hizashi,” Aizawa droned. “Stop being dramatic and _do your job_.”  
  


“Right!” Yamada yelled, sitting up straighter. “What was your reaction to being chosen as one of the Elite?”  
  


“I just—I’m so—I was _shocked_. In a good way!” Eijiro added hastily. “I wasn’t expecting to make it this far, really, but I couldn’t be happier.”  
  


Well, technically he _could_ if a certain _someone_ were still here . . .  
  


Yamada beamed, “That’s great to hear! I’m sure things have been really tense, lately . . .”  
  


Eijiro nodded solemnly, “You could say that again. This was a good move on Bakugou’s part, honestly. It really helped to get a lot of us out of that funk we’ve been stuck in for the past couple weeks or so.”  
  


“Well, you might wanna offer some credit to his maid. I know for a _fact_ he won’t do anything without running it by her first.” Yamada joked, although he _was_ being partially serious. Akira had a huge impact on Katsuki’s decision-making. “One smart cookie she is, I tell ya.”  
  


“Yeah, I’ve met her a couple times in the past. Really nice, y’know?” Eijiro asked.  
  


Yamada nodded, “Oh, definitely. She deserves a raise, really.”  
  


He gave a pointed look to Mitsuki and Masaru.  
  


Eijiro laughed, “Agreed.”

“That’s just about all the time we have together today, Eijiro!” Yamada said, enthusiasm still amped up to the max. “Send Neito my way, will you?”  
  


Eijiro nodded, “Oh, yeah, ‘course.”  
  


He strode back to his seat, plopping down. He tapped Neito’s shoulder, and jutted his chin towards Yamada.  
  


Neito stood gracefully, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from his fine-pressed suit and striding confidently across the room. He sat with his ankles crossed, and back ram-rod straight.  
  


“Hello, Hizashi,” Neito greeted, bowing his head. “A pleasure to be here.”  
  


“Glad to hear it, little listener. It’s a pleasure having you on here, as well!” Yamada replied exuberantly. “I’ve gotta know, though, what do you think are your chances of winning the _whole_ thing?”  
  


Neito offered him a laidback grin, leaning comfortably in his armchair. “I’d never dream of discounting my fellow competitors, but I’m nothing if not confident. I think my chances are great, really.”  
  


“Loving that confidence!” Yamada exclaimed. “Yeah! Who would you say is your biggest competition?”  
  


“I don’t want to call anyone out, per se . . .” Neito trailed off.  
  


“Oh, please, I’m curious! Just one, or two people you think have a good shot at winning so far?” Yamada pleaded.  
  


“Well, Kirishima, probably,” Neito offered. “They’ve kissed _twice_ , you know. A good lot of us are still waiting on our first kiss.”  
  


Yamada whistled lowly, “Wish I’d known that! I think everyone saw them kiss at the Queen’s banquet, though, right?”  
  


Neito nodded in agreement. “I definitely saw. Anyone who _didn’t_ probably heard about it afterwards.”  
  


Yamada shot Eijiro a wink and a quick thumbs up.  
  


“I’m guessing you’re hoping for a kiss from the Prince yourself, eh?” Yamada asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively.  
  


Neito forced a blush, fanning his face theatrically. “Oh, well, who doesn’t? Just gotta wait for the right moment to come up, I suppose.”  
  


“Patience is key,” Yamada agreed. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll have your shot soon enough, yeah?!”  
  


“Yeah,” Neito repeated in a much quieter voice. “I don’t plan on losing, regardless.”  
  


Yamada slapped him on the back, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Keep up with that attitude, yeah? It’ll get you place, trust me.”  
  


Neito nodded.  
  


“Anyways, that’s all the time we have for tonight! A big thank you to our lovely Queen for her announcement tonight, the crew who make these segments happen, and the Elite who were so kind as to let me interview them tonight! Until next week, little listeners!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just stop for a minute and say that I feel extra bad about killing Tensei :< I started reading the bnha Vigilantes manga a couple days ago, and Tensei is so sweettttt why must Stain be the worst T^T (Also, Stain looked w a c k when he was a vigilante)
> 
> In other, more relevant news, I'm gonna be ranking the Elite next chapter based on one of those popularity poll things again. It's not based on my opinion, but rather what I think most people would decide based on what they've seen briefly on TV.
> 
> I think I'm finally starting to get a feel for most of the characters' personalities, honestly. At first, I didn't really understand any of them a t a l l, but the more I write, the easier it gets (or maybe I'm crazy and they've been completely ooc the entire fic).
> 
> Here's a list of the Elite, as well as their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> Next chapter will be, like I said, the popularity polls ranking the Elite and a date. Maybe some dabihawks on the side, but don't count on it.


	38. Discoveries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoto-centric chapter, mostly ^^
> 
> Personally, I love him, so to anyone else that does as well, you have impeccable taste.
> 
> Enjoy!

An odd sense of normalcy overfell the Selected the day after the Report.  
  


It was the first time in a while that Ochaco could remember _everyone_ being in the Selected’s parlor at once. Maybe that was due in part to the popularity poll that had been released earlier that morning.  
  


Based on the way the bakusquad was currently congregated around the fireplace, they’d been eager to hear about it.  
  


Currently, Shoto was sat in between both Momo and Izuku, leaning comfortably into the side of the latter. Ochaco had noticed that they seemed to be a rather touchy-feely pair, despite Shoto’s standoffish persona. Ochaco had to guess he was probably touch-starved due to his less than savory relationship with his father.  
  


Ochaco swallowed down bile at the thought of the man.  
  


She wore a chipper smile, scooping up an edition of today’s magazine, flipping through it mindlessly as she sat beside Izuku.  
  


“You guys already seen it?” She asked mindlessly, holding her finger in place upon finding the correct page.  
  


Momo smiled sweetly, “I have, already. Midoriya and Shoto were waiting for you.”  
  


“Aww, guys, that’s so sweet!” Ochaco cooed. Shoto shrugged, whereas Izuku’s cheeks erupted in a flaming blush.  
  


“It’s no big deal, O-Ochaco!” He protested meekly. “Where did we all place?”  
  


“Oh, right! Congrats, by the way, Momo!” Ochaco congratulated good-naturedly. Momo smiled and nodded in acknowledgment. “Sheesh, Shoto ranked third. Damn, dude. Deku, you and I got sixth and seventh. Better luck next time, yeah?”  
  


Izuku blinked in mild surprise, “Oh, well, uh, I was expecting eighth, really. Seventh isn’t bad!”  
  


“I didn’t even clarify who placed sixth or seventh, specifically,” Ochaco pointed out, shaking her head. “Although, you’re right. You did get seventh, _but_ , seventh is better than eighth?”  
  


Izuku nodded his agreement, “Much better, yeah.”  
  


“I’d give you my ranking if I could. I wouldn’t mind seventh all that much,” Shoto said tonelessly, sighing.  
  


“With those looks? No way would you score less than fourth, for sure.” Ochaco protested firmly. “Izuku and I have just gotta step up our game!”  
  


“If it were up to me,” Shoto said. “You three would be in first, second, and third. I’d probably be eighth.”  
  


Izuku glared, “If it were up to _me_ , you’d be in first.”  
  


Shoto smiled wanly, “You give me too much credit, Izuku.”  
  


“And you don’t give yourself enough!” Izuku argued.  
  


“Do they do this often?” Momo questioned Ochaco quietly, watching Izuku and Shoto banter back and forth good-naturedly, amusement flickering in her black eyes.  
  


“Oh yeah, _all_ the time.” Ochaco replies, smiling tiredly. “Both of you, cut it out. You’re both great, moving on.”  
  


“But—” They said simultaneously.  
  


Ochaco cut them off, “But _nothing_. I’m too tired for this bullshit.”  
  


Izuku snorted, “Okay, now you’re just starting to sound like Aizawa.”  
  


“Maybe I could learn a thing or two from him,” Ochaco jokingly replied. “That sleeping bag he carries around with him all the time? Not looking like such a bad idea, now.”  
  


“Please don’t,” Shoto advised, grimacing. “If you want to sleep, lay on Izuku. He makes for a great pillow.”  
  


“Wait— _what_?!” Izuku asks, protesting. Ochaco breaks down in laughter, not entirely sure whether Shoto meant that as a joke or not. “Don’t just offer me as a pillow! Pillows have feelings, too!”  
  


Shoto nods sagely, “You’re a great example of that.”  
  


Izuku groans, “Okay, yeah. I set myself up for that one, huh?”  
  


Momo smiles apologetically. “You did, yes.”  
  


“You guys turned mom against me? How dare.” Izuku pouted fiercely.  
  


Momo blinked, “Mom?”  
  


“Yeah!” Ochaco agreed. “You’re kinda like the mom friend, right? And Tenya’s totally like our dad!”  
  


“Huh,” Shoto said, thinking it over. “You’re right.”  
  


Momo sighed, “When did I become designated as the mom friend?”  
  


“Since you started mother henning all of us,” Ochaco replied matter-of-factly. “But it’s great! You’d totally make for a great mom someday.”  
  


“Would I, really?” She asked skeptically. Izuku and Ochaco nodded enthusiastically. “Well, thank you! I’ve always hoped for a big family . . .”  
  


“Me too!” Izuku said excitably. “I really love my mom, and I don’t exactly _mind_ it just being the two of us, but . . . I have to admit I’ve always kinda hoped for a few siblings to fill the quiet space. So I’m gonna make sure my kids have lots of siblings!”  
  


“Aww, that’s sweet,” Ochaco cooed. “I’m an only child, too, actually. But I grew up always surrounded by my parents’ coworkers and friends, so I can’t exactly say I ever truly felt _alone_. I’ve always wanted kids, for sure, but maybe not a ton. Two, maybe three?”  
  


All three looked to Shoto then, silently asking for his personal opinion on the matter. The boy in question shrugged, giving them a blank look.  
  


“However many kids that my partner wants, I suppose,” he offered.  
  


Ochaco groaned, “You’re just gonna settle like that? What about what _you_ want?”  
  


“Are you good with kids?” Izuku interjected.  
  


“Huh,” Shoto said, thinking it over. “Not sure. I’d be fine with settling, really. There’s not much I really want in life.”  
  


Izuku gives him a pained look, squeezing his hand tightly.  
  


“You should set some goals for yourself.” Izuku advised. “Do you plan on getting married?”  
  


Shoto . . . didn’t know. Obviously, to an outsider, it would be considered an odd question. He was here to _get married_ , but really, he hadn’t exactly made his mind up yet.  
  


Marriage came with a lot of commitment, and trust. What built a strong marriage was, most importantly—to Shoto, at least—love. Trust, loyalty, passion were all impertinent, but love was the true foundation for a healthy relationship.  
  


Shoto realized, though, that he wasn’t sure what love really felt like.  
  


The best example of a married couple are his parents, whose marriage was based on lies and force. His mother was increasingly unhappy with each passing day, and his father grew hungry for power in his constant struggle to become _worth_ something. To be the _best_.  
  


Shoto could say for certain their marriage was far from healthy. Shoto wanted someone who he could grow old with. Who would sit with him patiently and talk him through a panic attack because something reminiscent of his father came up. Who’d sit through the good times, and the bad, and love him regardless. Who wouldn’t exactly mind his aloof personality, and that he had trouble understanding most societal cues.  
  


As he thought about it long, and hard, Shoto realized he _did_ want to get married. But not just to _anyone._ He already had someone in his life that met all that criteria, and more. Who made his heart pound, and face light up with joy at the mere mention of his name. He already _had_ someone who he wanted to be with _all_ the time, and who enjoyed being at his side as well.  
  


The person he wants to marry is _Izuku_.

* * *

Shoto wasn’t sure how to feel after his shocking revelation the other day.  
  


At the time, he’d given a simple yes to Izuku’s question after realizing he’d been taking far too long to answer. Afterwards, he stood, shrugging off his seemingly random leave with a tired excuse. Izuku had given him a worried look, but he ignored it, for the most part.  
  


He had a lot to think about. Coming to the realization that he was basically in love with his best friend, who it would technically be _illegal_ to have current relations with, was not an easy thing to come to terms with.  
  


It was a long time coming, really. Perhaps this is why it felt as though his heart was caught up in his throat whenever he saw a hint of forested green hair. Or why his stomach was tied all up in knots whenever Izuku so much as sent a smile his way.  
  


Shoto was in love with Izuku. And he had a date with _Katsuki,_ today.  
  


There was one thing Shoto resolutely understood— _no one_ should know about his feelings for Izuku. Admitting to them to _anyone_ puts himself and possibly Izuku at risk, even if the pining is one-sided. Izuku has made it abundantly clear in the past that he is here to _win_ , and Shoto trying to make up some sort of false relationship between them would only put a strain on their friendship.  
  


But what to do about Katsuki?  
  


Leaving outright doesn’t exactly feel like an option, to him. If he were to leave, he’d be walking right into his father’s hands back home.  
  


No way.  
  


Plus, if he stays, that means more time with his friends. With Izuku.  
  


But he shouldn’t lead Katsuki on, either. Making himself completely undesirable would probably end up in nothing but his own elimination, proving his efforts ultimately fruitless. Thus far, his quiet and mysterious act has landed him in the final _eight_. Katsuki still has yet to learn a substantial fact about Shoto, and yet he’s still considering the very real prospect of marrying him.  
  


The answer is clear—just keep doing what he’s been doing the whole time.  
  


Luckily, they’re meeting at the gardens. Shoto has to admit, while he’s not especially fond of Katsuki’s company, the gardens is a place he feels safe at. It reminds him of his mother, and most of his altruistic memories involve her. Those of them where she isn’t _crying_ , of course.  
  


So Shoto arrived early. By several hours, in fact.  
  


The gardens was one of the few places within the palace he truly enjoyed, so showing up early was actually more enjoyable than he’d thought it might’ve been.  
  


And as a shocking addition, surprises seemingly waited around _every_ corner.  
  


Shoto hadn’t been _meaning_ to eavesdrop. It’s just that whoever it was speaking seemed so immersed in conversation that he really didn’t want to interrupt. He’d fully intended on walking away just then, at the sound of their heated conversation. That is, until he heard them say _his_ name.  
  


“When are you going to tell Todoroki?”  
  


Shoto paused, biting his lip in a moment of indecision. He could hear the two clear as day, and it wasn’t like it was _bad_ , right? They were talking about him, after all.  
  


He shuffled closer to the bushes, holding his breath. In his moment of doubt, he’d apparently missed whatever the other had responded with.  
  


“You _know_ what I’m talking about.”  
  


“Do I?”  
  


“ _Touya,_ ” the first man bit out in a harsh tone.  
  


Shoto flinched violently, rustling the leaves currently shielding him from sight. There was a brief moment of silence, before Shoto heard soft footfalls wandering in his general direction.  
  


“What was that?”  
  


“Just the wind, babe,” the first man reassured him.  
  


Shoto held his breath, remaining stock still. After a moment, he heard the footsteps wander hesitantly away.  
  


“Whatever. So, you want me to tell him my identity, huh?”  
  


“Obviously. He’s your _brother_. Don’t you think that counts for at least something?”  
  


“. . . Yeah. I know that you’re right, Keigo, but it’s not that easy.”  
  


So Prince Keigo was one of the one’s speaking. Did that make the other man Dabi? Shoto took a quick peak around the corner—yup, that was definitely Dabi. With his _electric blue eyes_ , and really Shoto maybe should’ve connected the dots sooner what with his usual knack for conspiracies.  
  


Dabi continued, “I left him with that _monster_. And for what, because I was _scared_? I wouldn’t put it past him if he hated me after learning what I did.”  
  


Someone—presumably Keigo—sighed, “Touya, you can’t make that decision for him. The best thing to do is to be _honest_ with him, and let Todoroki decide whether he wants you in his life, or not. It’s not your fault you were scared— _anyone_ would be, of that man.”  
  


Shoto thought about it— _did_ he want Touya back in his life? He hardly knew anything about him, and the same was true vice versa.  
  


Touya _understood_ , though. He’d lived through Enji’s borderline torturous parenting, and now Shoto had a chance to have a real relationship with one of his sibling’s. A chance he’d never had before, because of Enji.  
  


 _Of course_ he’d take that chance.  
  


“You know,” Shoto spoke up, leisurely rounding the corner. “Your boyfriend’s right. That is _my_ decision to make, and mine alone.”  
  


Dabi froze, gaping at him in mild mix of shock and fear.  
  


“Wha—Shoto? You . . . heard that?” He asked, flickering his blue-eyed gaze to his shoes, avoiding Shoto’s mismatched own.  
  


“Yeah. I did.” He nodded, “And you know what? _Enji_ has never allowed me a proper relationship with Fuyumi, Natsuo, or even you when you were still around. So, naturally, I’d jump at the chance to change that fact. I want to know you, Touya.  
  


“I want to know my brother.”

* * *

Neito wasn’t sure how to feel.  
  


On one end, he was glad. Glad that Kendo stuck around, even after Tetsutetsu and Shiozaki kicked the bucket. Really, he’d expect the girl to suddenly have a random and unexplainable uptick in her workload and be unable to make time for him.  
  


That was usually the case.  
  


Instead, she kept coming back. Like that morning, for instance, when she came into the parlor to greet him, carrying a steaming cup of earl gray tea for _him_.  
  


His favorite.  
  


She’d sat down beside him, waving around a magazine and gushing about the newest popularity polls. Neito had been so stunned he’d nearly forgotten.  
  


Kendo ignored his utter lack of response in favor of digging around in the magazine, bringing up anything noteworthy she saw in passing. Eventually, she got to the list, and that was when his feelings got caught somewhere in between.  
  


Because he was so _glad_ that Kendo was here, sat beside him, and that they were still _friends_. And yet, he was _peeved.  
  
_

It wasn’t Neito’s name written neatly in the spot next to first place, oh _no_.  
  


It was Momo Yaoyorozu’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I smell some typical Monoma sabotage coming up? Poor Momo
> 
> Shoto made some pretty important discoveries in this chapter. Last time I promised a todobaku date, and then I got the idea of him overhearing about Dabi being Touya, and I just had to do it. I'm still gonna write the date part, but that'll just be for next chapter.
> 
> Speaking of next chapter, I have a sorta announcement about that. In a few days time, I'm going on a week-long beach trip with the fam, so I won't have any way to post. It's Monday to Friday, so you guys actually won't be hearing from me until the Tuesday after next :<
> 
> Sorry for the delay but! I'll try and write an extra long chapter next time around to make up for it.
> 
> Here's a list of the Elite, plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> Also, a more condensed list of the popularity rankings from this chapter since I didn't go out of my way to list everyone's individual rank:  
> 1\. Momo Yaoyorozu  
> 2\. Neito Monoma  
> 3\. Shoto Todoroki  
> 4\. Mina Ashido  
> 5\. Eijiro Kirishima  
> 6\. Ochaco Uraraka  
> 7\. Izuku Midoriya  
> 8\. Hanta Sero
> 
> Sorry Sero! It had to be done TwT
> 
> Next chapter will be released on the... 18th (yes, I looked it up to check)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter, even though it was a little all over the place.


	39. Coming Clean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from vacation, which is good for you amazing readers (or bad depending on whether or not my writing is trash) and bad for me because s c h o o l 
> 
> Regardless of my mild dilemma over not remembering a single damn thing I learned in math class last year, enjoy!

Shoto could admit that he was certifiably shaken up by the revelation of Dabi actually being his runaway brother. He’d never gone out of his way to look for his brother, or given much thought to the sibling he’d never really had the chance to get to know.  
  


But now, knowing he had the chance to build a relationship with his brother without Enji to get in the way, Shoto was ecstatic. He’d been so lost in deep conversation with Keigo, who had been perfectly eager to share embarrassing story after next, he’d hardly noticed Katsuki approaching.  
  


“Oh! And one time—”  
  


“Am I interrupting something?”  
  


Shoto twisted his head to the side, spotting Katsuki leisurely approaching in his peripheral. “No, you’re not.”  
  


“Good,” he replied gruffly, stalking to stand on Shoto’s other side, between him and Dabi. “Cuz there’s somethin’ I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”  
  


Keigo scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, “We’ll just be on our way then. I’m thinking some _alone time_ sounds good right about now.”  
  


He put extra emphasis on “ _alone time_ ”, mostly confusing Shoto and making Katsuki gag in an over exaggerated way.  
  


Dabi scoffed, “We just got rid of those STD’s, are you seriously asking for the chance of _more_?”  
  


Shoto choked on his spit.  
  


“As long as you’re not fucking around with anyone else, then we’re all clear,” Keigo pointed out.  
  


Dabi contemplated it, hesitating a moment. “You’re right. Let’s go.”  
  


Katsuki gagged yet again, waiting until the antsy couple was out of earshot before muttering, “Disgusting.”  
  


“Are they about to . . . you know,” Shoto asked uncomfortably. Katsuki cocked an eyebrow in question. Shoto leaned closer to him, whispering, “Have sex?”  
  


Katsuki burst out in raucous laughter, causing Shoto’s confusion to become even more apparent.  
  


“What? What did I say?”  
  


“You don’t have to whisper that shit, half n’ half,” Katsuki teased.  
  


“But isn’t it a bit inappropriate?” Shoto deadpanned.  
  


Katsuki snorted, “Fucking hell, we’re not talking about this right now.” He said. “There’s something else I _actually_ need to fucking ask you about, so no lying to me ‘bout this shit, okay?”  
  


Shoto shrugged, “Sure.”  
  


Katsuki gave him a contemplative look. “Why are you here, Shoto?”  
  


Shoto hesitated, “Because it was a great opportunity to be with someone who I had interest in. Or better known as—you.”  
  


“Bullshit.” Katsuki growled. Shoto hardly reacted to the violent tone. “I can tell when someone’s fucking lying, even someone as apathetic as you. Be straight with me here, yeah?”  
  


“ _Fine_. I’m here because my dad wanted me to be.” Shoto spat out, furrowing his brows in anger. “Happy?”  
  


“Yeah, I fucking am,” Katsuki snapped back. “So you’re not in fucking love with me or anything?”  
  


“No,” Shoto replied earnestly. “I’m not. In fact, you actually kind of annoy me.”  
  


Katsuki huffed a small laugh, “I annoy a lot of people. Get over it.” He paused, “If you don’t care to fucking win, why the fuck are you still here? What’s stopping me from kicking you out?”  
  


Panic flared in Shoto’s mismatched eyes—a reaction Katsuki hadn’t necessarily been expecting.  
  


“It’s . . . hard to explain.” Katsuki lifted a brow, silently saying: “ _Go on_.” “My dad . . . isn’t the best person. Really, I’m just staying here to avoid him. Although, I suppose that’s not enough to exactly have you grant my request of continuing to stay?”  
  


Katsuki thought it over, although really his mind had been made up from the start.  
  


“You can stay, half n’ half. But don’t be expecting any more dates n’ shit.” Katsuki snapped, although Shoto seemed completely unbothered. “You’re gonna be my guy on the inside, tell me what’s up with the Selected. If you need somethin’ to tell me, tug on your fucking ear. I’ll come find you, but _I_ come to _you_. Got it?”  
  


Shoto nodded resolutely, “Okay. On those terms, I’m going to head back to my room, then.”  
  


Katsuki jerked his head in a nod, turning a sharp corner towards the exit. “Whatever. G’night, half n’ half.”  
  


“Good night,” Shoto returned politely, bowing his head. “Oh, and . . . thank you.”

* * *

Nejire chewed on the end of her pencil, mulling over the current task at hand.  
  


“Maybe the best place to start would be a color scheme?” She offered, leaning backwards in her seat.  
  


Her, Tamaki, and Mirio had been trying and failing to plan a proper wedding for the pair. It didn’t help that Tamaki seemed positively aghast at the concept of spending any more money than was necessary. Mirio, on the other hand, wanted their wedding to be a momentous occasion. Nejire was just trying to help the pair find a happy medium.  
  


So far, whenever they try to mix and match ideas, the concept clashes. Nejire always envisioned her wedding would follow after a blue and silver color scheme, and it might be a good place to start to help her friends coordinate. The boys could certainly use a home base to plan everything else off of.  
  


“A color scheme?” Mirio offered her a contemplative look. “Like what?”  
  


Nejire tapped her chin in thought, trying to think of something that would suit both Mirio and Tamaki equally.  
  


Naturally, yellow was Mirio’s favorite color, and it could work depending on the shade. Especially paired with a cool pink, or purple, which would suit Tamaki nicely. Nejire was a personal fan of pastels, and always had been. The neutral tones would definitely make Tamaki feel more at ease, which would thus make Mirio happier since Tamaki was relaxed. Win, win, right?  
  


“What about, like, pale yellow with a pale pink or purple? Oh! Or blue maybe?” She offered contemplatively.  
  


“Yellow?” Tamaki questioned quietly. “Are you sure?”  
  


She shrugged, “It’s Mirio’s favorite color. And purple is yours!”  
  


“Fair point!” Mirio replied excitably. “And we’ll keep the tones light. Nothing to bright, yeah?”  
  


“Yeah!” Nejire agreed heartily. Tamaki cheered along shyly, still looking a bit unsure. “Listen, Tama, let’s just look some things over before making any final decisions, okay? It’s a _wedding_ , lighter colors will fit the atmosphere better. Trust me!”  
  


“ . . . Okay,” he muttered dismissively. “I trust you.”  
  


Mirio clapped his hands loudly, beaming at his fiancé. “Great! How about cake testing next?”  
  


Nejire slammed her hands on the table, squealing in delight. Tamaki flinched away from the sudden ruckus.  
  


“Oh, _absolutely_!”

* * *

The smell of lavender and spearmint permeated the air.  
  


Momo worked her shampoo into a nice lather, evenly coating her hair. A drop of her head in the water washed away the soap, leaving behind nothing but a full head of lustrous raven hair.  
  


Or so she assumed.  
  


“Missus? Are you nearly done?”  
  


Momo started at the sound of her maids’ voice outside the bathroom, a gentle knock on the door following the statement.  
  


“Yes, Akahana,” she replied softly. “I’ll be out in just a moment!”  
  


She finished up quickly, wrapping a towel around her bodice and moving towards the vanity where her maids could blow dry her hair. She sat down leisurely, already bent in half to retrieve the hair blow dryer.  
  


“Akahana! You can enter, I’m finished,” she called, lifting her eyes to meet her reflection—  
  


And _shrieked_.  
  


“Missus?!” Akahana cried, rushing into the room. “What’s— _oh_. Oh _no_.”  
  


Momo was frantically grasping at her crispy _blonde_ locks, too busy in her panicked state to hear her other two maids bustling through the open doorway.  
  


“Miss Yaoyorozu? What _happened_?” Hotaru asked, flitting her hands around Momo’s head, as if afraid to touch her discolored hair.  
  


“I don’t know,” Momo whispered, gaping. “We can dye it back, right? Perhaps my shampoo or conditioner got switched out?”  
  


Someina straightened her spine, “I’ll go check, ma’am.”  
  


Akahana whipped her head around, strutting towards the door. “I’ll go get us some dye, then?”  
  


Hotaru nodded, “Yeah, and be quick about it. She has a date in only a few hours! Lunch is in less than one!”  
  


“She might have to miss it!” Someina called from the other room. “You were right, ma’am. Seems like bleach was mixed in with your shampoo.”  
  


Hotaru groaned, “God, the _damage_ that’s gonna do to her poor hair. It’s fine, though!” She amended quickly upon seeing Momo’s worried look. “We’ll get you fixed up in no time. You may have to skip lunch, though.”  
  


“We’ll have something sent up for you,” Someina added helpfully. “You’ll be ready in time for your date, and then some, at the very least, ma’am.”  
  


Momo nodded, smiling gratefully. “Thank you all so much. I’d be a mess without your help.” She offered graciously. “And I remind you yet again, Someina, you can just call me Yaomomo. I’m not quite old enough to be referred to as ‘ _ma’am_ ’ just yet.”  
  


“It only feels proper,” Someina deflected, as she had every other time Momo had mentioned the fact.  
  


In fact, none of Momo’s maids seemed willing to address her informally as she’d already requested countless times. Even in the privacy of her room, where no one was around to here, they were each polite and respectful in their own right.  
  


“I’m back!” Akahana cried, shoving the door open with more force than was really necessary. She dropped the dye and brushes down in front of Momo on the vanity and spun her around, facing away from the mirror.  
  


The three girls set to work, digging through layer after layer of thick, unnaturally blonde hair and dying it back to its original color. After about an hour, her hair was completely wrapped in aluminum foil, and being given time to soak in the color.  
  


She’d been reminded over and over by the girls to maintain proper posture so as to avoid getting any dye on her face. Apparently, it’d happened once to Hotaru, and the color had refused to remove itself from her skin for a week. Considering Momo was  
going all black, she really didn’t want to find out how long it would take to get that color out.  
  


A quick dip in the bath afterwards had her thoroughly put off by the sudden black coloring of the water from the dye. She’d originally panicked, thinking the dye would wash out completely, rendering her hair blonde once again. After a quick reassurance from her maids that this was a normal step in the process, she timidly washed and dried her hair, ruining the formerly white cloth.  
  


She bit her lip in worry, “Will you be able to wash the stain out?”  
  


Akahana waved away her worries, taking the damp towel from her hands and pushing Momo towards the vanity. Hotaru stood near her chair, holding the hair blow dryer hesitantly in her hands.  
  


“I’ll go put the towel in the wash, missus,” Akahana said, bowing her head. “You two—fix up her hair nicely, yes?”  
  


Someina nodded, “Of course. Come sit, ma’am.”  
  


“It’s _Yaomomo_ ,” Momo reminded her, a fond smile tugging at her lips.  
  


Obediently, she took a seat, watching silently as her maids tugged at each strand of hair, drying it and pulling it back into an elegant bun. Curled strands of raven hair fell gracefully around her ears, and eyes, framing her face.  
  


Hotaru dressed her in an elegantly styled golden dress, reminding Momo somewhat of an old story she’d read a couple times, about a beautiful woman named Belle who fell in love with a beast. Older stories like that one were hard to come by, but Momo had specifically sought after fairy tales to fill her free time. Her childhood was filled with stories of Prince and Princesses, and mermaids and magical places that no one could possibly hope to find in the real world, like Neverland.  
  


She liked the look of the dress—it made her feel like royalty. She didn’t _need_ a Prince to make her a Princess, because she felt enough like one right now.  
  


“Oh, wow,” Hotaru whispered, smiling softly. “You look amazing, Miss Yaoyorozu!”  
  


“Yes, you really do,” Someina agreed heartily, nodding along. “I’m sure the Prince will love it just as much.”  
  


Momo felt a lump rise in her throat. Katsuki wasn’t necessarily the person she was hoping to impress . . .  
  


“I certainly hope so,” she lied, forcing a smile.  
  


The door opened hurriedly, and slammed shut with a loud clang.  
  


“I’m back!”  
  


“Akahana!” Hotaru called. “Come look! This is her best dress yet, by far.”  
  


Akahana gasped at the sight of her, rushing to Momo’s side to admire her from up close.  
  


“Wow, Missus, you look amazing!” She complimented. “If you aren’t the human embodiment of Queen-material, I don’t know who is.”  
  


Momo couldn’t stop the blush that coated itself across her cheeks just then.  
  


“I have an idea,” Someina muttered deviously. “Why not stop by the Selected’s parlor? Stir the pot a bit?”  
  


“What, to make them _jealous_?” Momo asked incredulously. Someina was by far the most proper of her three maids—she ordinarily would have expected something like this from Hotaru.  
  


“She has a good point,” Hotaru chipped in, smiling innocently. “Besides, you still have a good hour or so until you’re set to meet with the Prince. Some mild bragging couldn’t hurt.”  
  


Momo twirled a strand of hair nervously, “I’m not going to _brag_ , necessarily, but I think Kyoka has a day off, today. Perhaps I’ll stop by and pay her a short visit.”  
  


Akahana cheered, “Yay! That’s the spirit, missus!”  
  


“Off you go,” Hotaru said insistently, shooing her from the room.  
  


Momo couldn’t hold back the chuckle that fell from her lips, gently shutting the door behind her as she made way towards the parlor.  
  


Aizawa sent her a curt nod upon entry, earning a soft smile in return. The fruitful conversation filling the room hardly halted after she came inside, luckily enough. She really hadn’t been feeling like drawing excessive attention to herself.  
  


Her usual group was immersed in an avid conversation over something she could hardly make out. One presence was notably absent, and that being the one person she’d hoped to see most.  
  


Kyoka.  
  


“What do you _mean_ your birthday was the tenth?!” Ochaco shouted, presumably at Shoto. Momo suspected he was more likely to hide something like that from her and the others than Izuku. “That was, like, two weeks ago!”  
  


Shoto, completely ignoring Ochaco, caught sight of Momo and waved. “Hey Yaoyorozu,” he greeted politely. “Nice dress.”  
  


She smiled, fanning out the gold silk flatteringly, “Thank you! It’s my favorite by far. My maids really overdid it, huh?”  
  


“The Prince is a total fool if he doesn’t swoon for you in that get-up,” Ochaco chipped in helpfully. “I totally am. If he doesn’t snatch you up first, then I will!”  
  


“Aren’t we supposed to be here for Kac— _the Prince_?” Izuku asked pointedly, slipping up slightly at the end.  
  


“You can call him by your cute little nickname around us, Deku!” Ochaco said liltingly. “Besides, have you just taken a moment to appreciate how amazing Yaomomo looks? If the Prince doesn’t propose after this date, I’ll eat my hat.”  
  


Izuku bit his nails anxiously, “You don’t really think he will, do you?”  
  


Ochaco pat his back reassuringly, chuckling. “I’m kidding, Deku. You’ve got a great shot with him, yeah?”  
  


“I don’t know . . .” He muttered. “We haven’t kissed since our first date. What if he’s lost interest?”  
  


“He hasn’t,” Shoto reassured. “You’re plenty interesting, Izuku.”  
  


Izuku offered the heterochromatic boy a shy smile. Shoto’s eyes softened at the sight, an action that didn’t make it past Ochaco.  
  


Through the mild chatter, Momo hardly heard near silent footsteps approaching until she felt a soft tap on her shoulder. Turning around, she was met with short-cropped violet hair and a wicked grin.  
  


“Miss me?”

* * *

The sound of fine-point heels clinked against the smooth asphalt.  
  


The only other sounds permeating the air were Denki and Hitoshi’s silent breathing as they hid around the corner of the building, willing whatever entity had decided to encroach their newfound territory to leave them well enough alone. Rather, the sound of heels scraping and silent cursing seemed only to grow closer by the second—whoever it was, they were coming right for them.  
  


“Hey, I know you’re back there.”  
  


Denki was surprised to realize he _knew_ that voice. He couldn’t particularly place from where, but he’s sure he’s heard at least once before.  
  


“It’s Midnight,” Hitoshi muttered. It clicked in Denki’s mind then—of course, she was one of Aizawa’s closest friends, so no doubt she’d managed to weasel the information of their whereabouts out of him already.  
  


“We’re over here,” Denki called out, louder. Hitoshi sent him a panicked look, to which Denki responded with a hesitant shrug. Surely, Nemuri would have come to help, right?  
  


Her face lit up upon turning the corner, “Oh! There you two are, I’ve been searching for _ages_. I don’t know Latin, either, so your little message made no sense to me.”  
  


Hitoshi narrowed his eyes, “Where’s Aizawa?”  
  


“Not to worry, cutie, he’s just fine back at the palace,” she reassured him. “Things have sure been hectic lately, and he hasn’t found the time to come see you two. So, he sent me in his stead!”  
  


“Well, thank you, Miss Midnight!” Denki said, grinning earnestly.  
  


Nemuri returned the grin, waving away his thanks abashedly, “Oh, just call me Nemuri.” She said. “Oh! Here, here, I have some food for the two of you. And . . . paint?”  
  


“For our messages,” Hitoshi reminded her blandly.  
  


She nodded her head along, “Right, right, of course. Have the two of you found a nice place to settle just yet? Or are you still on the move?”  
  


“Still on the move,” came Denki’s muffled reply. He’d taken no time at all to divide the food in half (perhaps he gave Hitoshi a bigger portion, but what Hitoshi doesn’t know won’t hurt him) and stuffed himself with a decent amount of food. He had to admit, he was completely famished, what with all this walking as well as already not getting enough to eat as it is.  
  


“I see you wasted no time in getting straight to the food,” Hitoshi muttered fondly, picking up his rucksack with his fair share. “Why do I have three rolls and you only have one?”  
  


Denki nervously swallowed his bite, “No reason.”  
  


“Lover’s quarrel? How quaint!” Nemuri muttered fondly. “It’s nearly time for me to go, actually, but there’s one last thing I’d like to discuss with Shinso before I’m on my way.”  
  


Hitoshi gave her a blank look, “Okay. What is it?”  
  


She rolled her eyes, “ _Privately_ , please?”  
  


Hitoshi pecked Denki quickly on the cheek, and followed her around the bend of the building. Impatience was written in every action he took, written out most clearly by the incessant tapping of his foot against the ground and the hard lines of his face.  
  


“What do you want?” He asked briskly.  
  


Nemuri chuckled, “Calm down, hot stuff,” she said with a suggestive wink. “It’s nothing bad—a gift, actually. For Kaminari.”  
  


“Then why are you giving it to me?” He asked, confusion etched into his tone.  
  


Nemuri sighed, “It’s a gift from me that _you’ll_ give to him. It’ll make more sense once you see it.”  
  


She pulled something from inside her bra—an action that mildly disgusted Hitoshi—and held it out. Upon closer inspection, Hitoshi fully recognized what it was, and froze.  
  


“See what I mean now?” She asked, smiling deviously. “I figured you wouldn’t be able to afford one on your own, and I’m nothing if not a hopeless romantic.”  
  


Wordlessly, Hitoshi took the small navy blue box from her hands, prying it open. Inside waited a gold and diamond encrusted ring—and engagement ring.  
  


For _Denki_.  
  


“Wow,” he breathed.  
  


Nemuri’s smile softened, “I figured you’d like it. It costs a pretty penny, too, but my job pays well. It’s a gift, so no take-backsies! You can even sell it if you like but—well, I want you two to be happy. You deserve that much, at the very least.”  
  


Hitoshi scoffed, “I’m definitely not selling it without Denki’s consideration.” He muttered absentmindedly, stroking the ring tenderly. “Thank you. It, uh, it really means a lot.”  
  


“Good!” She chirped, clapping him softly on the shoulder. “I expect full details next time I visit, yeah?”  
  


Hitoshi nodded, offering the woman the smallest of smiles.  
  


“Yeah.”

* * *

Tamaki took a ginger seat in the quaint café, admiring the light-hearted decorations strewn about. For such a cute place, the guy working there definitely didn’t seem to be reading the right vibes. His expression was set firmly in what could only be described as Resting Bitch Face, scowl lines etched into his cheeks.  
  


“Do we really need to talk to him?” Tamaki whispered anxiously. “He looks so scary . . .”  
  


Nejire waved away his worries, “It’ll be fine, Tama! I’ll go up with you, okay?”  
  


“Okay . . .” He muttered. “He actually looks a little familiar.”  
  


“Really?” Nejire asked. “Maybe you’ve met him before. That would be so cool!”  
  


Tamaki shrugged wordlessly, standing up and following Nejire up to the front desk.  
  


Mirio, a huge fan of any and all sweets, had specifically requested to sit out on cake testing. His reasoning had been that he wasn’t sure he’d ever have been able to make a choice, and that he didn’t want to gain too much weight before the wedding. Tamaki had accepted it before even hearing the ‘why’. He had the unshakeable tendency to just go along with whatever Mirio suggested, something he’d been mildly scolded for by both Nejire and Mirio himself.  
  


He and Nejire approached the counter surreptitiously, looking over the options. Tamaki had been so enraptured in trying to decide on what to try first he’d hardly noticed the man working there until he was right in front of them.  
  


 _Ratan_.  
  


Of course, it’d been years since the pair had seen each other. Tamaki and his family had moved, and they hadn’t exchanged a word since then.  
  


Based on the sinister smirk outlining every devious feature of Ratan’s face, he hadn’t forgotten.  
  


“Well, well,” he muttered drily, smirk widening. “If it isn’t Amajiki.”  
  


Tamaki had to fight back the flinch upon hearing Ratan’s raspy voice yet again. Thought of the wedding had invaded his mind entirely, and anything else was simply put on the back-burner. After this encounter, Tamaki was certain that would no longer be the case.

“R-Ratan,” he muttered, lowering his head. “Hi.”  
  


“I saw you on the Selection—both of you, actually,” he said, smile sickeningly sweet. Tamaki didn’t like where this was going. Ratan inclined his head in Nejire’s direction, “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Ratan, and you seem like a very respectable, beautiful woman. Say, you haven’t found yourself a partner since your return, have you?”  
  


Nejire glanced knowingly between Tamaki’s uneasy expression and Ratan’s calculating smirk. She narrowed her eyes, offering up a clearly forced grin.  
  


“I haven’t been looking, really,” she said firmly. “Tamaki here, though—well, he’s actually just about to be getting married. Isn’t that wonderful?”  
  


“I’m sure he’s plenty excited,” Ratan replied drily, glaring down at Tamaki. “Pity the poor fellow that has to be stuck with him, though. Send them my condolences, will you?”  
  


“I won’t,” Nejire replied, glaring daggers at the redheaded man in front of her. Ratan matched the expression, still keeping a nonchalant façade regardless.  
  


“Too bad,” he said through grit teeth. “We’ll see how long that relationship lasts.”  
  


“Years, actually,” Nejire snapped back. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but we came here to _order_.”  
  


“Actually,” Tamaki piped up quietly, ducking his head to avoid Ratan’s glare burning holes into the side of his head. “I think we should eat somewhere else.”  
  


“Good idea,” Nejire agreed in a chilling tone.  
  


With one last intense glare thrown over her shoulder at the completely unperturbed redhead, they left.

* * *

Even nearly half an hour later, Momo could still feel the sting of her incessant blush on her cheeks. The cool wind stung whipped harshly against the warm skin, but even then it refused to fade.  
  


She couldn’t get Kyoka out of her mind. Upon seeing her, Kyoka had grinned from ear-to-ear and wouldn’t stop talking about how amazing Momo looked. Hearing those words from Kyoka left a warm feeling in her chest, that she carried with her all the way to the library where she was set to meet Katsuki.  
  


Momo had a lot to think about, especially on whether or not to tell Katsuki she really wasn’t interested in marrying him in the slightest. In fact, she could imagine a future with Kyoka much easier, by comparison.  
  


But if she were to leave, that would also mean leaving Kyoka behind at the palace. It felt _wrong_ to lie to Katsuki, especially with the very potential chance she may be crushing on someone else entirely.  
  


She doesn’t even know if Kyoka likes girls as well, in the first place.  
  


Ultimately, telling Katsuki would be a bad idea. There was still too much for her to sort through, and not enough time. This discussion with Katsuki would just have to wait for another time.  
  


Then, there was another matter for her to fret over.  
  


Only a few days after she was ranked in the top spot for the popularity polls, bleach had mysteriously found its way into her shampoo bottle. She’s not very inclined to believe it was an accident.  
  


Yet, it was another thing that she felt hesitant to discuss with Katsuki. The most harm it did was set her schedule back a couple hours. Telling Katsuki about the matter is just begging for drama, which is the last thing Momo wants.  
  


Keeping it to herself wouldn’t be so hard, either, but there’s no harm in bringing it up with the other Selected. Perhaps, if she can pinpoint any signs of recognition or guilt, she could figure out who the culprit was. Not that she’d do anything with the information—it’d really just be nice to know.  
  


“You been waitin’ long?”  
  


Momo turned her head to the side at the sound of Katsuki’s voice.  
  


“No, not really,” she offered untruthfully. She’d been there for a while, really, just sitting and thinking.  
  


“Whatever,” Katsuki muttered, taking a seat to her left. “Nice dress.”  
  


Momo offered him a smile, fanning out her dress around her waist. “My maids have truly outdone themselves.”  
  


“The girl wearing it ain’t so bad either,” Katsuki compliment. Momo willed herself to feel something, _anything_ , like she had when Kyoka had said the near same thing.  
  


_“That dress looks beautiful, Yaomomo,” Kyoka complimented graciously, running her hands up and down the golden silk.  
  
_

_“Doesn’t it?” Momo said fawningly. “My maids have a true gift, for sure.”  
  
_

_Kyoka shook her head, “_ You’re _beautiful too, you know.”  
  
_

While the wording had been different, they’d meant the same thing. But that wasn’t the only thing different about it—it was the people saying it as well.  
  


Momo enjoyed being complimented by Kyoka more than she ever had by Katsuki.  
  


“Thank you,” Momo responded politely, fighting to keep her smile from dropping. “You look wonderful, as usual, Prince Bakugou.”  
  


Katsuki grunted in acknowledgement.  
  


“Did you think about what we talked about last time?” He asked, straight to the point, as always.  
  


Honestly, Momo should’ve been expecting this.  
  


“I have . . .” She admitted cautiously. “But, I just—I can’t make up my mind.”  
  


Katsuki huffed, “Let’s be real fucking honest, here. If you were gonna fall in love with me, wouldn’t there at least be _something_? If you’re feelin’ nothing, then you’re feelin’ nothing. Don’t force yourself to stay if it’s not what you want.”  
  


“It _is_ what I want, though,” Momo replied without thinking. “I mean, uh, well, what I mean to say is that I don’t want to leave. But . . . I haven’t made my mind up about _you_ , yet.”  
  


Katsuki narrowed his eyes, shooting her a knowing look. “Who are you staying for?”  
  


A pause.  
  


“Kyoka.”  
  


“Yeah, makes fucking sense,” Katsuki relented. “Listen, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, really. But . . . I’m not gonna tell you to leave if you don’t wanna. I just don’t like the idea of kicking people out. Doesn’t sit right with me.”  
  


Momo sighed a breath of relief, “Oh, thank you so much. I’ll absolutely leave if it becomes necessary, but you really don’t know how much this means to me.”  
  


A smile tugged at the corner of Katsuki’s lips, “Sure. Whatever, pony tail.”

* * *

“So?” Aizawa asked impatiently. “How were they?”  
  


“The cutest,” Nemuri replied dreamily. “I gave Shinso an engagement ring—” Aizawa shot her an unimpressed look. “—for _Kaminari_. They’re just so cute together.”  
  


“And their back’s?” Aizawa asked, ignoring most everything his friend said.  
  


“I don’t know,” she said with a shrug. “Was I supposed to check?”  
  


“ _Yes_ ,” Aizawa snapped, rubbing his forehead in frustration. “Sorry, Nemuri, I’m just stressed.”  
  


“Its fine, Sho,” she reassured. “We’re all overworked, I get it. The boys are fine, nothing to worry about.”  
  


Aizawa released a relieved sigh, lying his head on the desk.  
  


“Thanks for this, Nemuri.”  
  


“Any time, hon!” She replied cheerfully. “Although, next time remind me not to wear heels. Searching for them took _ages_.”  
  


Aizawa chuckled to himself, earning a firm pout from Nemuri. “I think I’m going to tell some of the Elite about Kaminari and Hitoshi.”  
  


Nemuri furrowed her brows in concern, “Are you sure, Sho? Can they be trusted?”  
  


“You saw the way the lot of them reacted,” Aizawa replied sternly. “Yes, I _do_ think they can be trusted.”  
  


“Well,” Nemuri continued unsurely. “Who do you plan to tell?”  
  


Aizawa pondered the question momentarily, “I think I’ll tell Kirishima, Sero, Ashido, and Jiro.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course I had to go back and reference the big three again. I wasnt just gonna leave them hanging after saying they were gonna get married. Honestly, the only people I'm planning to follow outside of elimination (minus Kendo and Jiro since theyre still at the palace) is Tenya, Hatsume-ish, Mirio, Tamaki, and Nejire. If there's anyone else you think I should look into writing about more going forwards, I absolutely will. I love suggestions and opinions from you guys, or any and all comments really. They make my day ^^
> 
> I've dyed my hair... I think 4-5 times before? One time I dyed the tips black and got some on my cheek when I moved my head the wrong way. BIG mistake. It didn't come off completely for at least 2 weeks XD I got it professionally done once (took 4 and a half hours TwT) and I decided to read while I waited for it to soak in. Got some blue dye on my cheek, cuz I'm a fucking idiot, and that didn't come out for about a week. Lesson is--if you dye your hair, don't get it on your skin. It really doesn't like to come out lmao
> 
> Shoto being the 'inside man' was an idea I got from the original books when America asked not to be sent home so she could avoid Aspen. Of course, America ended up WINNING, but I think everyone already figured out who I intend to win. I'M SORRY. I'm not good at being secretive okay QwQ BUT also like you never know. Mineta could make a comeback guys
> 
> (You better realize I'm kidding)
> 
> Here's a list of the still 8 Elite because I'm too sentimental to get rid of anyone (they're all so amazing):  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> The bleach in the shampoo was another idea I borrowed (stole) from the original series. If you haven't already figured out who the culprit is, go back and read the last scene of chapter 38.
> 
> I honestly had two great openings to eliminate Momo and Todoroki, but I just cant because I love them both too much.
> 
> So in the comments a little bit ago (not sure which chapter) someone made a suggestion that Tamaki could have an ice cream date with Bakugou and then the guy working there makes fun of him for his timidity. I kind of took that suggestion and twisted it a little bit where they're instead buying cake, and the guy working there is Ratan instead. If you don't remember who that is, it's Tamaki's old bully (check chapter 20), who I named Ratan mostly because it looks a lot like Satan.
> 
> We got to see the boys interacting with aunt Nemuri, yey :D I love Midnight, what a queen (and the only female staff member at UA? mildly disappointing--although midnight is definitely keeping up the slack for the utter lack of other female teachers)
> 
> Next chapter will be out on Friday, although it might be a little shorter than usual. School just started, and I am definitely not looking forwards to high school. Too much work
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, 'til Friday!


	40. The Fifth and Final Member of the Bakusquad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School already sucks and it's only the first week. Latin though is surprisingly interesting. So far we haven't learned a single thing about Latin, b u t we learned Greek myths so, not bad
> 
> If you don't realize who I'm talking about in the chapter title, I think you'll realize pretty quickly
> 
> Enjoy ;P

Eijiro had to admit, he felt slightly bad for getting so hyped about his upcoming date with Katsuki. While he was living in the lap of luxury at the palace, with the man of his dreams, Denki was somewhere out there just struggling to _survive_. He felt bad for feeling so happy when his best friend didn’t get to experience the same thing.  
  


His therapist—Hound Dog, as he’d asked Eijiro to call him—had been telling him his feelings were perfectly natural. In fact, Mina had once mentioned experiencing similar feelings in passing. Hound Dog had also thought to remind Eijiro of the fact that Denki would want him to be happy, regardless of how he himself was doing. Eijiro knew he was right—Denki was a kind soul like that.  
  


Thoughts like those only made Eijiro miss him more.  
  


Other times, Eijiro wondered if he’d be willing to risk it all for Katsuki the way Denki and Hitoshi had for each other. Sometimes, he was doubtful. Then, all it took was one meaningful gaze into never-ending pools of vermillion to remind himself that he’d do anything to be with Katsuki, including taking even _fifty_ lashes if it came to that.  
  


God, Eijiro was whipped.  
  


He wasn’t shy about it, either. Recently though, he’d been feeling hesitant to act on his feelings around Katsuki. Every time he did, warmth flooded his chest, soon replaced by a cold dread settling uncomfortably in his stomach when Denki came to mind soon after.  
  


He wasn’t sure where the happy medium was. It wasn’t like he could so easily move on, as though nothing had ever happened. But Eijiro wasn’t quite ready to give up a possible future with Katsuki, either.  
  


Eijiro had considered discussing the matter with Hanta and Mina multiple times. They understood, more than anyone, what Eijiro was going through. Their group hadn’t been quite the same without Denki’s constant boisterous attitude and Hitoshi’s snarky comments rolled into the mix. Which is precisely why Eijiro _didn’t_ bring up the pair. They could all use a break, and the redhead was sure his friend’s didn’t want to hear about his dilemma, especially when he knew they were going through the same thing and had yet to complain.  
  


So really that just left Hound Dog, who was technically getting _paid_ to hear Eijiro rant. And rant he did.  
  


They had an hour long session once a week. Most often, Eijiro found himself talking about Denki, and crying. He hasn’t let himself truly cry in front of anyone else, minus that one time with Katsuki that ended up with them both sobbing.  
  


Mina had cried plenty, and whenever the topic came up about Denki, even only briefly, Hanta would get this distant look in his eyes that made Eijiro think he wasn’t all there. Eijiro didn’t talk about Denki in front of them, and whenever the boy came up, he held in his emotions. They were all feeling upset, and particularly vulnerable. As far as Eijiro was concerned, they needed a rock—someone to stay strong and be there for them when they need it. Eijiro was perfectly content with being that person for them, even if he needed the comfort just as much.  
  


He wondered if Katsuki would be down for another movie night, tonight. They did that whenever one of them was seeking comfort, and it’d been progressively helping Eijiro cope.  
  


They’d sit there, wrapped up in each other’s arms, watching sappy movies. Eijiro always cried, and Katsuki would pointedly turn away from him, acting as though his eyes weren’t at least a little moist as well.  
  


He decided he’d talk to the ash blonde about it. Katsuki had never said no in the past.

* * *

Shota was fully prepared to admit to some of the Elite that Denki and Hitoshi were perfectly safe. It was a risky decision, he knew, but Shota had the strong sense that it would all work out in the end.  
  


He’d asked Kyoka if she wouldn’t mind gathering the others in his stead. The girl had merely shrugged, turning on her heel to go and do exactly what he’d requested, no questions asked. Shota greatly appreciated it.  
  


She returned fifteen minutes later, two boys and one girl trailing at her heel. Kyoka seemed perfectly lax, expression the epitome of nonchalance. Eijiro kept glancing quizzically between Kyoka and Shota, no doubt wondering what the hell was going on. The side of Mina’s cheek was hollowed out, leaving Shota to guess she was probably biting the inside of it. Otherwise, her expression remained perfectly neutral. He wondered what was going through her head. Hanta’s expression was a blank canvas—Shota wasn’t entirely sure if the boy was completely aware of his surroundings. According to recent conversations he’d overheard between Kyoka and Hizashi, that was becoming a recurring thing for Hanta.  
  


Shota slipped into a seat, gesturing for the others to do the same. They quickly obeyed, although it took Kyoka poking Hanta forcefully on the shoulder before he took his own.  
  


“There’s something I need to talk to you all about,” Shota stated, tone serious and completely devoid of emotion.  
  


The topic was hard for him to talk about, because even though he knew Denki and Hitoshi were safe and well, he couldn’t help the panic that enraptured him in his sleep. He couldn’t stop the way his heart would skip a beat at the thought of what could’ve happened if he _hadn’t_ stepped in.  
  


Shota could hardly imagine how the four in front of him were faring.  
  


“What’s this about?”  
  


Mina was the first to speak up, voice shaky and unsure. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, refusing to make direct eye contact.  
  


“It’s about Hitoshi, and Kaminari,” Shota admitted. Mina flinched, biting her lip anxiously. “It’s nothing bad, I promise.”  
  


“Then what is it?” Kyoka snapped, narrowing her eyes. Shota didn’t blame her. He hated how cryptic he sounded, even to his own ears. He originally planned to just bite the bullet and get it over and done with, but he really hadn’t been anticipating just how hard it was to talk about this.  
  


Hizashi had been the one to tell Nemuri, ultimately saving him from having to explain. But, Hizashi wasn’t here now. _Shota_ needed to be the one to say this.  
  


“They’re alive, and . . . I wouldn’t say _well_ , necessarily, but they’re okay,” he confessed hesitantly. “I was one of the few privy to the information of their original whereabouts. I’ve been going to visit them often, leaving behind food and other necessary supplies.”  
  


Eijiro let out a noticeable breath of relief, “So . . . they’re okay?”  
  


Shota nodded. He didn’t think he could speak any further without his voice betraying him. These were his _kids_ he was talking about, and even though this should be relieving to discuss, Shota couldn’t help but think they never should’ve been put in this position in the first place.  
  


Mina promptly burst into tears, burying her face into Hanta’s shirt. Hanta, who seemed perfectly used to this, accepted his fate graciously and rubbed his hand on the sobbing girls back soothingly.  
  


“Thank you,” Hanta mouthed to Shota. Shota nodded slightly, standing.  
  


“I’ll give you all some time to process.” He said. “If any of you want to see them, I’ll see what I can do about sneaking you out. I can’t take more than one at a time, though.”  
  


With a mere nod of his head, he turned on his heel and left the group alone to think.

* * *

Eijiro had a lot on his mind. He’d gone through the motions of the day in a blur, eating a lustrous breakfast that had tasted bland on his tongue. He’d mostly sat there as his maids tried to decide on something for him to wear on a hike—he didn’t have many clothes suited for more active activities.  
  


They’d dress him in a plain white button up, the top button undone to reveal a sliver of his collarbones. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off his muscular forearms. The shirt was paired with slim-fitting black cargo pants and black boots. It was one of the most casual outfits Eijiro had worn during his stay in the palace.  
  


Eijiro had hardly protested when his maids tried to convince him to wear his hair down today. He had other, more important matters, to think about. Things that weren’t his hair, or his wardrobe.  
  


Knowing that Denki was safe was a relief, really. It took a huge weight off Eijiro’s chest that he hadn’t known was there until it was gone.  
  


Now, what plagued Eijiro’s mind instead, was the unquenchable desire to visit the blonde. To squeeze his best friend in the tightest hug he could manage, to make up for lost time. He’d yet to approach Aizawa about the matter, mostly due to not knowing exactly how to bring it up.  
  


He could tell the topic had been hard for Aizawa to discuss. His eyes had been noticeably wetter as he was leaving than at the start. Eijiro wasn’t sure as to what Aizawa’s full relationship was with Hitoshi and Denki, but the redhead knew the older man cared. He didn’t necessarily cause Aizawa and extra strife by pointedly bringing up the topic, even if he’d been the one to make the offer in the first place.  
  


And did Katsuki know? Because Eijiro was certain of one thing, and that was that Katsuki was hurting just as much as the rest of them. He’d been distracting himself with excess dates and princely duties as of late. Eijiro was pretty sure the only time Katsuki gave himself enough time to dwell on what had happened was at night, as he was trying to sleep. Which pretty much meant he got none—Eijiro would know. He had the same problems.  
  


A nice dose of concealer had helped to hide that problem from overly observant eyes. He was sure Mina had long managed to figure out Eijiro, and his entire thought process, but the girl never commented, and the conversation remained a stale topic.  
  


Perhaps, Katsuki needed someone to be there for him. Eijiro was plenty sure Akira was trying her best to do just that, but Katsuki was stubborn. As far as Eijiro had heard, he always had been. Akira could be just as persistent at times, but Eijiro feared that the two were just too similar in that department for it to work out in the intended manner.  
  


So he vowed to himself _he’d_ be that person for Katsuki. Even if the blonde pushed him away, Eijiro knew he needed it.  
  


Katsuki had been the only one to turn down the offer of therapy. Eijiro was certain he needed it most of all, and if he wouldn’t accept Hound Dog’s help, Eijiro wouldn’t let Katsuki turn down his.  
  


Maybe it was a good thing they were going on a hike. Eijiro knew it was one of Katsuki’s favorite activities, so there was a chance he’d be in a calmer state. More open to suggestion.  
  


Now was as good a time as ever to bring this up.  
  


Eijiro greeted Katsuki with a blinding smile. “Hey, Bakugou!”  
  


“Katsuki,” Katsuki corrected, almost instinctually. His face flared up an intense shade of crimson.  
  


Eijiro blinked, “What?”  
  


His voice had risen at least three octaves in the span of that one word. They both noticed, definitely, but neither made a comment on it. Eijiro turned his head, attempting to discretely clear his throat.  
  


“What I fucking meant was, call me Katsuki,” Katsuki snapped, willing away the blush that he could feel, hot against his skin. “You’ve fucking said it before.”  
  


“Oh my god, I did, didn’t I?” Eijiro asked rhetorically, as if only just now coming to this realization. “And you want me to call you that _again_?”  
  


Katsuki shrugged, glaring from his peripheral at Eijiro. “Did I fucking _stutter_?”  
  


“You may as well have,” Eijiro commented lightly. “Because my brain is having a field day trying to process this one.”  
  


Katsuki rolled his eyes, fighting to contain a smirk. “Whatever. Shouldn’t we leave?”  
  


“Uh, yeah!” Eijiro said, heading in the opposite direction from the mountain.  
  


Katsuki couldn’t suppress his sigh. He was in love with an idiot.  
  


He tried not to dwell on the fact that his mind had supplied him unhelpfully with the fact that he was supposedly _‘in love_ ’ with Eijiro.  
  


“Wrong way, shitty hair!” Katsuki had to admit though, his hair looked remarkably _less_ shitty when it was down. Especially pulled back in a bun like it was, Eijiro’s flaming red bangs falling carelessly over his eyes. “Fucking mountain’s this way.”  
  


Eijiro backtracked, approaching Katsuki sheepishly. He had a hand on his neck, and a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.  
  


“Whoops?”  
  


They chatted amicably as they went, Eijiro ultimately doing most of the talking. The redhead hardly minded—that was a pretty stable part of his and Katsuki’s dynamic. The blonde wasn’t really the most talkative, but Eijiro made up plenty for the both of them.  
  


As they talked, and walked, Eijiro thought. He thought about how to bring up the topic of Denki, and Hitoshi. On how to offer comfort without seeming like he was looking down on Katsuki. Wondered what would be the best course of action in order to help.  
  


“I can hear you thinking, shitty hair,” Katsuki spoke brashly, looking at Eijiro contemplatively. “What’s up?”  
  


Eijiro paused, taking a breath. He hadn’t realized he’d completely stopped walking altogether until the sound of leaves crunching beneath his boots had stopped. Katsuki was looking at him, waiting, but Eijiro wasn’t sure what to say.  
  


“Uh, well,” Eijiro began awkwardly, starting back up their hike at a pace slower than molasses. “I’ve just been worried. About you. About everyone who was close to Denki, or Hitoshi, really.”  
  


Katsuki scoffed nonchalantly, although his crimson eyes were filled with an emotion Eijiro couldn’t place. “I’m fucking fine.”  
  


“I don’t think you are,” Eijiro refuted calmly, staring at Katsuki head-on. Katsuki was the first to break eye contact, dragging his vermillion-eyed gaze down to the dirt below. “What’s on _your_ mind, Katsuki?”  
  


“Nothin’,” he lied blatantly, and they both knew it. Eijiro didn’t break his gaze—in fact, his stare grew only more intense. “Fine! I guess I’m, like, fucking stressed. I dunno.”  
  


Eijiro nodded, “Are you stressed about Denki and Shinso? Or something else?”  
  


“Tch. Who cares?” He deflected angrily, kicking a rock the size of Eijiro’s eye into the smooth bark of tree.  
  


“I do,” Eijiro replied calmly, reaching out to take Katsuki’s hand in his. His grip was loose, so Katsuki could pull away if he wanted to.  
  


He didn’t.  
  


In fact, his grip only tightened. Katsuki’s hand was excessively sweaty, and much rougher than Eijiro or anyone else would originally expect. Eijiro learned to love the feel of their fingers intertwined, however few and far between those moments might be.  
  


“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, Eijiro,” Katsuki said, voice breaking at the end. Eijiro squeezed his hand, leaving him room to continue. “I don’t wanna send anyone home, but isn’t that the whole fucking point? To keep on ‘til there’s only one person left? How am I supposed to fucking choose when I’m so damn attached to all you extras? My parents aren’t doing shit to help, either, cuz they’re always on me about this Akuyaku bullshit. Y’know, those Akuyakuan bastards came here to form a marriage alliance with me, which I couldn’t be less fucking interested in. If I don’t marry ‘em, though, war is pretty fucking guaranteed at that point, but if I do go for the alliance, there’s nothing stopping them from killing me and taking the damn throne for themselves.”  
  


Katsuki huffed, taking a break from his rant. Eijiro stroked the back of his hand soothingly, waiting to make sure he was done before speaking.  
  


“It’s your life, Katsuki,” Eijiro reminded him. “No one is forcing you into doing anything you don’t want to do. They _can’t_. Free will is a God-given right, right?”  
  


Katsuki huffed, “Thought you weren’t fucking religious, shitty hair.”  
  


Eijiro offered a small smile, “I’ll make an exception, just this once.”  
  


Katsuki grinned stiffly, before Eijiro watched the smile drop. “I’m a fucking mess, aren’t I?”  
  


“We all are,” Eijiro replied earnestly. “I want to help you, Katsuki. If you’ll let me.”  
  


An awkward silence permeated the air. Katsuki thought long and hard—did he want that? From Eijiro especially? A part of him did, and a part of him told him not to grow too dependent. There was no guarantee that Eijiro would win, and if Katsuki grew to expect his help, how was he meant to cope without the redhead alongside him?  
  


“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he replied hesitantly. Eijiro’s smile turned somber, although he didn’t let the expression drop altogether.  
  


“That’s okay,” Eijiro reassured him. “Promise me you’ll let _someone_ help you, though. Okay?”  
  


“Sure,” Katsuki agreed absentmindedly. “Maybe I’ll take Aizawa up on that therapy offer.”  
  


Eijiro beamed, squeezing Katsuki’s hand reassuringly. Without allowing himself time to think about it, Katsuki leaned over, pecking the redhead on the lips.  
  


Later, when they’d finally reached the peak, Eijiro overlooked the palace grounds with wonderment clouding his crimson eyes.  
  


“Isn’t it beautiful, Katsuki?” He’d asked breathlessly, leaning just a little too far towards the edge for Katsuki’s comfort.  
  


The blonde pulled the redhead away from the edge, gazing at the man longingly as he continued to stare, completely ignoring Katsuki’s presence in favor of sightseeing.  
  


Katsuki couldn’t help his cheesy grin, eyes locked on Eijiro’s profile, “Yeah. Beautiful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When my brain starts on kiribaku, it doesn't stop and then things like this chapter happen
> 
> B u t Aizawa finally told them about kamishin being okay. The bakusquad can rest easy knowing their other members are okay
> 
> Sooooo heres the list of the Elite, as usual:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> Next chapter will be out on Tuesday! ^^


	41. The Perfect Picnic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning to make it longer but school's a bitch and is already handing out more work than I'd like. Expect shorter chapters from now on (sorry)
> 
> Despite that, enjoy!

Toga tapped against her leg in tandem with the water dripping against the cold tile floor.  
  


She’d been on ‘personal leave’ from Shizuoka for a solid three days, now. No one had bothered questioning her, exactly as they’d hoped. The plan was going off without a hitch.  
  


Playing dumb had been surprisingly easy. If Dabi were here, he’d probably make some snide remark about how she wasn’t acting. The guards had easily allowed her limited access to the palace gardens, despite it being closed to visitors at the time. A pretty face could go a long way if Toga played her cards right.  
  


Apparently the palace staff in Ban’no were just as stupid as in Shizuoka.  
  


Donning a black hoodie and a generic black mask—which was _so_ not cute—Toga managed to slip into the shadows, distracting the guards trailing the exit of the gardens long enough to sneak past. Child’s play.  
  


Unfortunately, they had limited access to information regarding Ban’no. As far as Toga had heard, neither she, Dabi, _nor_ Twice had visited before. She’d managed to write herself off as a ditzy foreigner, despite Ban’no not being a very touristy place. No one bat an eye in her direction.  
  


Despite her difficulties navigating, Toga easily moved through the castle without a hitch. The place was even bigger and better than the Shizuokan palace, with pristine white walls embellished with gold lining every hallway.  
  


She’d been surprised, to say the least, upon discovering the holding cells underground. Something oozed incessantly from the ceiling, dripping against the cold tile for no regard to its inhabitants. The place was in a seemingly constant state of disrepair. With a tool or two to help along the process, and enough leverage, Toga was sure she’d be able to snap the rusted bars lining the holding cell’s like twigs.  
  


A guard had spun around to meet her upon hearing her footsteps clacking against the tiled flooring. “You are not permitted to be here, Miss!”  
  


Toga shook off her hood, flashing the man a manic smile, revealing her unnaturally sharp canines. Her golden eyes gleamed dangerously in the dim lighting.  
  


“Pity you had to be the one here, tonight,” she replied piteously, continuing her march forwards.  
  


She pounced, hardly giving the guard due time to react. By the time he had begun to reach for his gun, the sharp silver edge of Toga’s knife was already digging into the soft flesh of his neck. Blood oozed from the wound, coating the floor beneath them in a thick layer of crimson.  
  


“They’re always so pretty when they bleed . . .”  
  


Toga yanked the knife from his neck, watching jubilantly as the light left the guard’s eyes. She grabbed the man’s hand gun, standing and continuing her silent stroll down the cold cellar, searching for her intended target.  
  


“I’m over here, Toga, darling,” a lilting voice called. Toga grinned from ear-to-ear, twirling her knife absentmindedly. She’d know that voice anywhere.  
  


Upon turning the corner, she was met with the face of a man she’d never forget. Perhaps part of the reason why was because half of it was missing—left with nothing but ugly scar tissue in the place of where his eyes, and nose should be.  
  


“Sensei!” She chirped, gripping the knife tightly in her palm. Her golden irises gleamed as she meticulously sought out a means of escape.  
  


“Let’s get you out of here!”

* * *

“Hey, Mido!” Mina greeted exuberantly that morning at breakfast.  
  


As far as the others could tell, the whole bakusquad had seemed in much higher spirits lately. Izuku wasn’t sure what caused the uplifted attitude, but he was happy for the three of them regardless.  
  


“Good luck on your date this afternoon,” she continued.  
  


Izuku flushed all the way to the tips of his ears after hearing mention of Katsuki. They were having a lunch date this time around—a picnic. Katsuki had mentioned there being a really nice view he was interested in showing to Izuku. Izuku couldn’t wait.  
  


“Oh, thanks, Ashido!” He thanked bashfully. “You have a date of your own in just a few days, right?”  
  


Mina nodded her head fervently, briefly waving at Eijiro as he took a seat beside her. “Yup! Although it’s a mystery to me what we’re doing. Last time, we ended up covered head to toe in paint.”  
  


Izuku bowed his head in thanks when the food arrived, piling a fair amount onto his plate. Eijiro wasted no time in going straight for the meat, leaving little room on his plate for any vegetables.  
  


“I really don’t get how you eat like _that_ and don’t get fat, Eiji,” Mina commented, eyeing Eijiro enviously. She had a notably more balanced meal than he. “I need to start losing some weight here, soon. I’m really not used to all this food.”  
  


“I know, right?” Izuku piped up, eyes gleaming joyously at the stuffed plate laid out in front of him. “Knowing my mom, she’d probably cry at the sight of it.”  
  


“If she cries as easily as you do, I’d be willing to bet you’re absolutely right,” Eijiro replied teasingly through a mouthful of food.  
  


“Swallow, and _then_ speak! Honestly, men,” Mina huffed, rolling her eyes at her friend’s antics.  
  


“I don’t cry that easily, do I?” Izuku questioned nervously.  
  


“You do,” Mina contradicted unwaveringly. “But it’s totally adorable! Don’t worry, Mido.”  
  


The wink she sent his way did nothing to quench his rising anxieties. Izuku had always been known to wear his heart on his sleeve, a trait he’d picked up from his mother. He’d never necessarily minded, and neither had his mother.  
  


But what if Katsuki minded? Izuku hadn’t spent nearly enough one-on-one time with the blonde for him to have fully figured out this trait just yet, and Izuku didn’t think he ever wanted Katsuki to know. What if he thought he was weak? Or unsuited to rule? Unfit to marry?  
  


A slap on the shoulder broke him from his seemingly endless downward spiral. “I know that look, Midoriya, and I can tell you for certain you’re worrying over nothing. Listen . . .”  
  


Eijiro paused, scrutinizing Izuku in a contemplating manner. The long-winded inspection had Izuku shifting nervously in his seat, viridian eyes flickering back and forth between Eijiro’s own crimson and the splintered wood of the table.  
  


“If I don’t win, then I’m rooting for you, man.” Izuku jolted, looking up at Eijiro in shock. “I love my friends—really, they’re amazing—but I think out of everyone here, you’d be the best for Kat—er, Prince Bakugou. He definitely likes you, too, so you’ve got nothing to worry about!”  
  


Izuku offered the redhead a mildly strained smile, “Thanks, Kirishima.”  
  


Eijiro clapped him on the shoulder one last time, turning back to dig into his meal. When he spoke next, it was through a mouthful of divinely cooked steak, “Any time, Mido!”

* * *

Izuku was already waiting outside by the time Katsuki arrived. The greenette looked especially nervous today, for a reason Katsuki didn’t know. As much as he was embarrassed to admit it, he _really_ liked the boy.  
  


“Hey,” he greeted gruffly, slouching noticeably as he walked. The old hag always made a snide comment about it, but she wasn’t here right now to stop him. “Been waiting long?”  
  


“No!” Izuku squeaked, waving his hands frantically. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “I mean, uh, no. Only a few minutes, really.”  
  


Katsuki narrowed his eyes, “Whatever.” He replied dismissively. “Let’s get going. It’s a decent distance from here.”  
  


“We’re walking, I’m guessing?” Izuku asked, jogging to keep up with Katsuki’s long legs.  
  


Katsuki grunted an affirmative. Izuku didn’t question him further, so he assumed that meant he took it as a yes.  
  


They talked about everything and nothing as they walked, trekking at least a good mile. Izuku was carefully observing the rolling hills outlining the landscape. The scenery was breathtaking—the palace gardens had nothing on wherever they were now. In the far distance, Izuku could spot a few towns dotted around.  
  


“Woah,” he breathed, taking in the beautiful setting. “Is this where we’re eating?”  
  


Katsuki kept walking, “Sort of. There’s a specific spot we’re gonna settle down at.”  
  


Izuku doubted it could get much better than this, but he followed after Katsuki regardless.  
  


He wondered if this is what it would look like all over if not for pollution. In Musutafu, the sky loomed a grim silver color. Illness was often a common issue there, because of the excessive pollution. Izuku had heard of places that could get to be up to ten times worse—he was pretty sure Tamaki and Mirio had been from areas like that. He couldn’t imagine.  
  


Wherever Katsuki had decided to take him seemed the complete opposite. The golden sunlight shown down upon the canopy of trees like a beacon of hope, glimmering beatifically against all odds.  
  


Katsuki guides Izuku towards a small clearing where the trees parted, leaving open a patch of emerald green grass. The color was clear enough to rival Izuku’s hair.  
  


“It’s so beautiful!” Izuku exclaimed, kneeling down to bury his hands in the fresh blades of grass. “How did you find this place?”  
  


Katsuki shrugged, laying out a fresh blanket amongst the grass. “I liked to explore a lot as a kid. I found this place when I was . . . ten. Maybe eleven.”  
  


“Why are you showing it to me?”  
  


Katsuki grinned wickedly, “Because you look like a fucking tree.”  
  


“ _What_?” Izuku asked, touching his hair self-consciously. “I don’t look like a tree . . .”  
  


“Maybe broccoli, then,” Katsuki said contemplatively, placing a hand on his chin.  
  


“Broccoli? Why _broccoli_ of all things?” Izuku whined.  
  


Katsuki chuckled to himself, “I’m teasing, nerd. Your hair’s fine.”  
  


Izuku frowned, “ _Just_ fine?”  
  


He’d never been a huge fan of his unruly mess of emerald colored hair, but there wasn’t much he could to change it. Gel never managed to stick, no matter how much he applied. Dye was completely out of the question, as well. For one, he couldn’t even hope to afford it. On another note, he was proud that he looked so similar to his mother.  
  


Katsuki ruffled his mess of curls, mussing up his already crazy bed of hair. “I fucking like your hair, ‘kay? It suits you.”  
  


Izuku’s eyes shone with unshed tears at the compliment, a goofy smile tugging at his lips incessantly. “Thanks, Kacchan!”  
  


“You look like you’re gonna cry, nerd,” he replied off-handedly. “Something wrong?”  
  


Izuku hurriedly blinked away his tears, grinning. “Happy tears, Kacchan.”  
  


“Good,” Katsuki replied briefly, turning his head away. “Sit down, nerd, so we can fucking eat. I’m hungry.”  
  


Izuku grinned from ear-to-ear, plopping down on the blanket at Katsuki’s side, glad the blonde hadn’t gotten upset with him over his emotional tendencies.  
  


They enjoyed their meal together in peace, admiring both the extraordinary scenery and one another’s presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the whole Sensei thing came out of nowhere, especially since I never explicitly stated that he was imprisoned. The scene was meant to be a representation of the progression of their plans. Also, for those of you who forgot, Ban'no is the kingdom that All Might is the King of. Just to refresh your memory.
> 
> I hate how short-lived this date was. Maybe I'll expand on it more next chapter. Like, the walk back or something, idk.
> 
> Anyways, we got to see our beloved queen Toga again. Her and Twice really got the short end of the stick, cuz I really haven't been writing shit about them at all lately. I'll try to change that fact in the upcoming chapters.
> 
> Here's a list of the Elite, plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> Next chapter will be out on Friday! As you read this chapter, Mina's date is coming up next ;P


	42. Scavenger Hunt

It was already beginning to get dark when Izuku and Katsuki made their trek back to the palace.

They’d been outside for hours, it being long after they’d already finished eating. Discarding their blanket and empty basket once containing food, they wandered the unfamiliar terrain. It took Izuku a while to build up the courage to take Katsuki’s hand, but when he did, the blonde held onto him steadfastly. The moment was well worth the wait.  
  


They explored the rolling hills and fields of jade colored blades of grass, hand-in-hand. Katsuki had discovered a lovely flower the color of gold. Katsuki had told Izuku it was called a buttercup, right before picking it from the grass and gently fixing it into a comfortable spot amongst Izuku’s wild mess of emerald curls.  
  


Izuku searched for a proper flower in return. He looked for something crimson, to match Katsuki’s eyes. In Izuku’s opinion, that was his most prominent—and most beautiful—feature.  
  


“Aha!” He cheered, bending down on one knee to pluck a fiery red flower from the ground. “This one’s pretty, isn’t it?”  
  


Katsuki smirked, “It’s called a canna,” he explained. “It has a lot of different meanings, depending on how you look at it, I guess. My favorites are enduring and hardiness.”  
  


Izuku hummed in acknowledgement, leaning into Katsuki’s personal space. He position the flower carefully amongst Katsuki’s ash blonde locks, trying not to blush at how soft his hair was.  
  


“There!” Izuku chirped, beaming. “Now we match!”  
  


Katsuki fought down a blush, “Yeah. Guess we do.”  
  


Izuku took his hand again, leading the blonde back the way they’d came.  
  


“It’s getting dark, Kacchan,” Izuku pointed out dejectedly. “Should we head back soon?”  
  


“Not if you don’t fucking want to,” Katsuki huffed, gripping Izuku’s hand tighter.  
  


In the waning light, Izuku’s eyes glowed a toxic green, reflecting the beautiful scenery in his abnormally large irises. Katsuki couldn’t peel his eyes away from the smaller boy, entranced.  
  


“It’s kinda chilly,” Izuku commented lightly. Katsuki could see little puffs of frozen air with each breath Izuku took.  
  


“It’s the middle of fucking winter,” Katsuki deadpanned, heat lost from his usually biting tone. “Of course it’s ‘chilly’.”  
  


Izuku leaned into Katsuki’s side, “You’re warm, though.”  
  


Katsuki scoffed, wrapping a hesitant arm around Izuku’s waist. “My body temperature runs hotter than normal.”

Izuku didn’t seem deterred by the hand wrapped comfortably around his waist—in fact, he only seemed to curl into Katsuki’s side more.  
  


“Must be nice during the winter,” he muttered. Katsuki could hear the sleepiness edging into his tone—the cold seemed to suck the energy right out of people.  
  


“Sucks during summer, though,” Katsuki muttered. “I wear a lot of tank tops.”  
  


Izuku chuckled, “That’s a sight I’d like to see.”  
  


“Perv,” Katsuki replied teasingly.  
  


Izuku couldn’t help but giggle, “I am not!” He protested, “Do you even realize how good-looking you actually are?”  
  


“Good enough to get 35 extras tripping over themselves to marry me, apparently,” Katsuki joked, earning a light laugh from Izuku in response. “You’re good-looking too, y’know.”  
  


Izuku lifted a quizzical eyebrow, “Was that an _actual_ compliment I heard, or am I delusional?”  
  


Katsuki scowled, “Last compliment you ever receive from me, nerd.”  
  


“I’m kidding!” Izuku said, bumping Katsuki’s shoulder. “Besides, I know I’m pretty plain looking. No need to sugar coat it.”  
  


“Tch. I don’t lie to people,” Katsuki protested gruffly. “I guess at first glance I thought you seemed kinda plain or whatever, but it’s like . . . I don’t fucking know. It’s your fucking attitude or whatever that makes you seem so damn beautiful.”  
  


Izuku blinked in shock, freckled cheeks coated in a fine layer of red that Katsuki could guess _wasn’t_ from the cold.  
  


“You think I’m beautiful?” He asked, voice hardly above a whisper.  
  


“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?” Katsuki asked, turning his head to the side to hide his own blush. “Don’t make me repeat myself, da—”  
  


Izuku cut him off with a chaste kiss to the lips, “Thank you.”  
  


If Katsuki had been blushing before, his face was aflame now. “Whatever,” he muttered. “I didn't ask you to fucking stop.”  
  


Izuku laughed, the sound clear as a bell. He leaned forwards, face only inches apart from Katsuki’s own.  
  


Katsuki was the one who closed the gap, pressing their lips together in a tender kiss.  
  


Izuku wasn’t sure anything had ever felt more like home.

* * *

“How was your date, Katsuki?” Mitsuki asked in a clipped tone of voice.  
  


Her expression told Katsuki she’d rather be anywhere else than talking with him. His father simply looked worn out. Katsuki didn’t blame him, he had to spend constant time at his mother’s side. Katsuki could hardly stand to be in the same room as her for more than half an hour.  
  


“Good, I guess,” he replied dismissively.  
  


In reality, it had been so much _more_ than good. Katsuki wasn’t sure how to feel—when he was with one person, he’d think for sure they were the one. But then, he’d be with another the next day and rethink his whole thought process from the day before. It was confusing, to say the least.  
  


“Just good?” Mitsuki inquired stubbornly. Katsuki wished she’d just give it a rest already. “I heard you two were out for _hours_. That sounds like more than just good to me.”  
  


Katsuki bristled, “When did you start fucking caring?”  
  


Mitsuki hardly flinched at her son’s harsh tone of voice. Masaru had a much more physical reaction, although he did a good job of disguising his discomfort.  
  


“I’ve always cared, brat,” Mitsuki intoned. “Maybe you’re only just now starting to take fucking notice.”  
  


“Whatever,” Katsuki grumbled, ignoring her. “So is that all you wanted me for? To ask how my fucking date went?”  
  


“Watch your fucking language,” Mitsuki chided hypocritically. Katsuki scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’ve got something else to say.”  
  


“Then get on with it,” Katsuki snapped, narrowing his eyes.  
  


He wasn’t sure what they wanted to talk to him about this time. Was it about those damn Akuyakuans? Toga had been gone for days, apparently, due to familial reasons. Katsuki had hardly even noticed until Kendo brought it up.  
  


Maybe it was about the Selection? Probably, although Katsuki couldn’t guess at what he was ‘ _doing wrong_ ’ this time. Something dumb, he’d bet.  
  


“Valentine’s Day is coming up, and we think this is the perfect opportunity for us to meet the families of the Elite.” Ah. That made sense. “We’ll be hosting a party then.”  
  


“Katsuki,” Masaru finally spoke up, tone timid and uncertain. It agitated Katsuki to no end. “We think this would also be a good opportunity for an elimination.”  
  


Shit.  
  


Katsuki wasn’t sure he was ready for that. Knowing his parents, this wasn’t even a request. It was a demand.  
  


If he didn’t eliminate someone by Valentine’s Day, he’s sure they’d do it for him.  
  


“We figured this may be a difficult decision for you,” Masaru continued in the carefully controlled tone of voice, as though Katsuki were simply a ticking time bomb just rearing to explode. Maybe he was right, but it didn’t keep Katsuki from getting pissed over the fact. “So we’ve decided if you can’t come to a conclusion, we’ll eliminate whoever came last in the most recent popularity polls—Hanta Sero, I believe?”  
  


“Yeah,” Katsuki muttered. “Hanta came in last but—but I don’t want him to fucking go home yet. I don’t want _any_ of them to go home!”  
  


“We figured as much, brat,” Mitsuki interrupted. “Which is why we’re offering to choose for you. Make a decision quickly, or Sero’s out. That’s all.”  
  


Katsuki flipped them the bird on the way out, making sure to slam the door extra hard just to piss them off. The loud _clang!_ reverberated through the hallways, ringing in Katsuki’s ears like a countdown, reminding him of his impossible decision to come.

* * *

Mina was all too excited for her upcoming date with Katsuki.  
  


All she had been told thus far, by Aizawa, was that she was going to meet him in the art room, where they’d shared their last private date together. She wondered if that meant they were doing something similar this time around.  
  


She decided dressing in something somewhat casual would be the best way to go, in case things ended up similarly to how they did last time.  
  


Instead, upon arriving to the art room, she found it unerringly empty. Any and all art supplies had been neatly tucked away, leaving a clear space on the table, save for a vermillion rose. Approaching slowly, Mina noticed up close that the rose had a piece of parchment tied to the side. Mina sincerely hoped this wasn’t Katsuki’s way of politely saying he’d have to reschedule.  
  


Instead, once she opened the note, she found not an apology letter, but a riddle.  
  


_“A story, they say, can take you away, but a book still needs a place to stay.”  
  
_

What the hell?  
  


Mina was expecting to come here and have a wonderful evening dousing Katsuki in layer after layer of paint, and instead she found a riddle. Oh, that’s it—a _clue_. Perhaps this was some sort of scavenger hunt?  
  


If it was, then Mina needed to figure out where the next clue might be, and quickly. She wasn’t keen on leaving Katsuki waiting.  
  


It took her little time at all to realize the clue was probably referring to the library. That hardly helped her narrow it down at all, though, because the library was positively _huge_. How was she meant to find one measly clue amongst all those shelves lined with thousands of books?  
  


She pondered the clue as she walked, wondering if there was another hidden message in it. As far as she could see, there wasn’t one. She really didn’t feel like searching every shelf in the library—that would take _ages_.  
  


Luckily, Mina discovered she would need to do no such thing. Another flower awaited her on an empty table, this one being a tulip the color of bubblegum.  
  


The clue attached read: _“To be or not to be. That is the question.”  
  
_

Mina wasn’t the brightest of her friend group, and she understood basic literature, but her education hadn’t been necessarily the greatest while growing up. She’d made it halfway through middle school before juggling both school and work had grown too much. Her parents had talked her into dropping out, and the only other decent education she’d received had been through any books she’d stumbled upon and found the time to read.  
  


She _knew_ this was a quote—she’d heard it before, somewhere. It was probably a quote from one of the books in there, although that hardly helped narrow it down. Passing by row after row, shelf after shelf to find a title that seemed familiar proved fruitless rather quickly. Where could she have heard that before?  
  


A memory came to mind, faded and dull, but _there_ all the same. She clung to that memory like a lifeline, trying desperately to remember.  
  


_“We just started learning Shakespeare in class,” Hanako had retold wistfully, swirling her spoon around a cup full of bland porridge. “We learned this super famous quote—‘To be or not to be. That is the question.’ Our teacher said to remember it. Guess it’s gonna be important later on.”  
  
_

_Mina leaned over, ruffling her baby sister’s hair fondly. “I remember that course! It was so_ boring _.”  
  
_

_Hanako giggled, “Some of it’s interesting, though. I really like our unit right now.”  
  
_

_“To each their own,” Mina replied with a shrug, grinning.  
  
_

Shakespeare! That’s right, _he’s_ the one who wrote that quote.  
  


There’s gotta be a Shakespearean section in here somewhere, the dude was a legend. Even though she wasn’t sure which book the quote was from in particular, this narrowed it down _a lot_.  
  


It didn’t take her long to find the section dedicated to books by William Shakespeare. She flipped through book after book—Romeo and Juliet, Macbeth, a Midsummer Night’s Dream, King Lear, and _more_ , before finally stumbling upon the one she needed. _Hamlet.  
  
_

She’d flipped through a decent amount of books by then, and she was starting to think she’d misinterpreted the clue. Maybe it wasn’t referring to a book at all, but rather the next place she needed to go to. For the life of her, though, she couldn’t think of anywhere in the palace it might be referring to, so she continued searching the Shakespearean section.

Eventually, she stumbled upon a classic book titled Hamlet. When she flipped through the numerous pages, book propped up in her tired hands, something fell to the floor with a dull thud.  
  


Mina halted her searching, staring down gleefully at the note that had fallen from the book’s pages.  
  


The inside of the clue read: _“Flat, black, and seemingly boring, I sit in a room all day. Not until you turn me on do colors flash on my display.”  
  
_

Mina tried to think of what the riddle could be referring to. A computer, perhaps? Probably not—even if there was on in the palace, she wouldn’t have the slightest clue as to where to find it. Computers were a rare sight, these days.  
  


Maybe a phone? If so, Mina wasn’t entirely sure how good of a clue that was. The only people who were wealthy enough to own phones inside the castle were royalty, and they’d only let the Selected use them for special cases. Since very few people were rich enough to afford a phone, not many bought them. They were mostly useless, now.  
  


Not that, then. The last thing she could think of was a TV, which there were plenty of within the castle. She and the rest of the Elite had one in each of their own private quarters, and Mina had found herself lounging alongside Hanta, watching a cheesy rom-com to pass the time. Eijiro had much more of preference for action movies.  
  


Then it hit her—the on ground movie theater! Mina had been by there a few times, one notable mention being when she and the other girls had a girl’s day to themselves.  
  


So that’s exactly where Mina went. Right outside the door, she found yet another rose. It was colored a chilling crimson, and the edges were tinted a frosted silver. In the back of her mind, she dully noted that the color combination reminded her vaguely of Shoto. This slight revelation was pushed to the back of her mind, her giddiness over the romanticism of it all taking precedence.  
  


When she entered the room, Katsuki was waiting for her, bouquet in hand with an assortment of flowers of all kinds. He handed it to Mina when she grew nearer to him, scowling in that oh-so-familiar fashion.  
  


“Took ya long enough,” he complained without heat.  
  


Mina threw herself at him, crushing him into a bone-crushing hug. “That was so romantic! I loved it!”  
  


“You fucking better have,” Katsuki grumbled, patting Mina on the back awkwardly. “Those riddles weren’t fucking easy to come up with.”  
  


“Gotta admit, the Hamlet one nearly had me stumped.” Mina shrugged, moving over to take a seat in one of the numerous chairs filling the theater. “But after I figured out it was a Shakespeare quote, it didn’t take too long at all!”  
  


“My bad, I’ll take into account that you’re an idiot next time I do this,” Katsuki teased.  
  


“Hey!” Mina whined. “Next time?”  
  


Mina wasn’t sure whether or not she was imagining that slight pink flush to Katsuki’s cheeks. “There _might_ be a next time. No fucking promises, pinky.”  
  


Mina sighed, “Back to the nicknames, are we? Sometimes I wonder if you even know my real name.”  
  


Katsuki squinted in thought, “Uh, Amino Acids, right?”  
  


Mina snorted, “Shut up, Thotsuki Bakuhoe,” she quipped in return.  
  


“What the fuck did you just call me?”  
  


“Hizashi should totally announce you as that next time on the Report!” Mina replied jokingly. “It’s more accurate than your real name, honestly.”  
  


“I will fucking _obliterate_ you, Raccoon eyes,” Katsuki growled, sitting down next to her with a snarl.  
  


Mina winked, “Is that a threat, or a promise?”  
  


The blush she got in return was _totally_ worth the risk of possible immanent death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Izuku is a precious cinammon roll. Change my mind (people who dislike him, I just,,, h o w)
> 
> Mitsuki and Masaru back at it again with the A+ parenting.
> 
> I wish Mina had more screen time in the anime. She's literally amazing (also best girl imo)
> 
> Here's the list of the remaining Elite (will we be down on member soon? ;) ) and their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> Anyways, the next chapter will be out on Tuesday, see y'all then :3


	43. Rock Climbing

“Have you guys gone to visit Denki, yet?”  
  


Eijiro’s question with two shaking heads, resulting in a defeated slump of the shoulders. He’d been trying to find a good opportunity to discuss the matter with Aizawa, but the man always seemed so _busy_. It was hard finding a minute alone with the older man without feeling like he was wasting his time.  
  


“Have you?” Mina piped up, anxiously messing with her nails. The topic of Denki and Hitoshi often set them all on edge, but Eijiro wasn’t sure how else to go about it.  
  


He shook his head firmly, “No, uh. That’s actually why I brought it up.” He explained, “I can’t seem to catch Aizawa alone—he’s always super busy, y’know?”  
  


“Yeah, I get what you mean, man,” Hanta replied. “I _want_ to go see them, but, I don’t wanna take up too much of his time. Dude always seems so busy.”  
  


“ _Exactly_ ,” Eijiro agreed. “So what should I do?”  
  


Mina was the first of the two to speak up.  
  


“He’s married to Hizashi, right?” She asked.  
  


Hanta furrowed his brows, “Uh, yeah . . . ?”  
  


“Then talk to Jiro!” She suggested, grinning brightly.  
  


Hanta and Eijiro shared twin looks of confusion.  
  


“Huh?”  
  


“What?”  
  


Mina gave them both the stink eye, “Jiro is Hizashi’s new pupil. She knows where Hizashi’s and, by default, _Aizawa’s_ private quarters are! I don’t think she’ll mind sharing if you explain the circumstances.”  
  


Eijiro felt stupid for not having thought of that sooner. Kyoka was pretty chill, even if she weren’t the first person he’d go to about this stuff. He was sure she’d be fine with helping him out—she was cool like that.  
  


“Thanks, Mina!” He exclaimed, giving her a quick side-hug. “You’re a genius!”  
  


She snorted derisively, “Maybe to you idiots, I am.”  
  


“Hey!” Eijiro and Hanta shouted in tandem.  
  


“Do you two just share one brain cell?” She joked.  
  


The boys shared a look, “Yep.”

* * *

Hanta was excited for his date with Katsuki. They were going rock climbing this time, and Hanta only hoped he made it out of this date unscathed. He could imagine how embarrassing it would be if he managed to get injured on _both_ one-on-one dates he’s had with Katsuki.  
  


Katsuki had sent him some clothes to wear, since this activity was a little more rough-and-tumble than the usual. He’d done the same thing last time, when they’d both competed in an obstacle course. It had been plenty fun then, minus Hanta spraining his wrist. It felt like forever ‘til he got that cast off.  
  


Katsuki was waiting for him when he arrived. There were two other people there, clearly planning to operate the pulley system in case either of them fell. Despite knowing in the back of his mind that this would be the case, just seeing the pulleys made him feel slightly more secure.  
  


“Hi there!” A girl approaches Hanta from the side, fine red hair swishing side to side as she walks. “My name’s Omori, I’m gonna be operating the pulley system for you, today. If you’d feel more comfortable with my friend doing it instead—” she pointed towards her male companion chatting amicably with Katsuki, “feel free to let me know. I can also get a partner if that makes you feel more comfortable.”  
  


Hanta _would_ feel more comfortable with two people down there keeping an eye out, but he felt it would be rude to say as much.  
  


Clearly, something showed on his face, because Omori just laughed and said, “I’ll go get someone.”  
  


She disappeared into the thicket of trees without a trace, leaving Hanta alone with just Katsuki and the other man standing there, getting Katsuki set up with his harness.  
  


“Oi, where’d the other one go?” Katsuki snarled at the man before him, who seemed completely unphased.  
  


“Ask your date,” he replied curtly.  
  


Katsuki rose his eyebrows in Hanta’s direction. “She went to get another person to work the pulley with her. Just in case.”  
  


Katsuki scoffed, “Pussy. I only need one person’s help.”  
  


“You admitting you need help at all is a miracle, really,” Hanta teased with a knowing smirk.  
  


“Shut the fuck up, soy sauce face!” Katsuki shouted. “You don’t know anything!”  
  


“Soy sauce face?” Hanta quoted. “That’s not a very romantic thing to be calling your date.”  
  


“Last fucking date we ever go on together,” Katsuki muttered without heat.  
  


Hanta grinned, “But how could you ever last without seeing this gorgeous face every day?”  
  


“Only thing keeping me from living my best life over here is having to look at your ugly mug,” Katsuki snapped back.  
  


“Shouldn’t have asked me for a date, then,” Hanta said in a sing-song tone.  
  


“I specifically chose an activity where I could look anywhere but at your fucking face the whole time, didn’t you fucking notice?”  
  


Hanta couldn’t contain his laugh, “Suddenly, my ears have stopped working.”  
  


Hanta was saved from certain death by the return of Omori, a broad-shouldered male trailing quietly at her heels.  
  


“I’m back!” She chirped, rushing over to Hanta’s side. “This is Ryuu!”  
  


Hanta waved weakly, getting no outward response from the lumbering, yet silent, giant.  
  


“He’s shy,” Omori stage-whispered.  
  


Hanta could tell.  
  


After getting help setting up his harness, Hanta and Katsuki began their trepid ascent. The first few minutes were spent in a comfortable silence as they both tried to get themselves into a groove, figuring out the bed methods for climbing were.  
  


Hanta had been rock climbing before, but never on such outlandish terrain. He was usually in a much more controlled environment, where handholds were easily discernible and less likely to collapse beneath your hand. Hanta was having trouble finding trustworthy hand- and footholds, but figured out the best course of action was to move his feet to where his hands had just been.  
  


As they climbed, he felt as though he were beginning to become more open to the environment. He noticed the smaller things he hadn’t paid attention to, easily being able to tell when a handhold was about to fall out beneath him or when it was sturdy, reliable.  
  


Katsuki picked it up a lot quicker than Hanta, although it did seem as though he had a lot more experience. This was Hanta’s first time doing this, whereas Katsuki seemed seasoned. It left a wide gap between where they were climbing, with Katsuki a good meter ahead of Hanta, leaving the latter scrambling to catch up. How was he meant to hold conversation if Katsuki was too far ahead to hear?  
  


Seeing his mad attempt at catch up, Katsuki slowed his pace, giving Hanta time to pick up speed. He evenly paced himself, afterwards, keeping ahead of Hanta by a foot at the most.  
  


“You’re really good at this,” Hanta complimented breathlessly. Hanta’s arms could be described as nothing other than literal noodles, and the climbing was putting an unfamiliar, but not unwelcome, strain on his muscles. “Done this before?”  
  


“Yeah,” Katsuki responded blandly, hardly seeming out of breath. His arms were roped with hard-earned muscle, straining against the fabric of his shirt. Hanta had no doubt this was a breeze for him. “You kind of fucking suck at this, soy sauce face.”  
  


“Back to the nicknames, are we?” Hanta did his best to tease without sounding completely exhausted. To put it shortly, he failed miserably.  
  


“You’re out of breath,” Katsuki pointed out obviously. “You should really work out more.”  
  


“Gee, _thanks_ ,” Hanta replied sarcastically, hoisting himself precariously onto another foothold. “Just putting up with your sass is a work out in and of itself.”  
  


“Fuck you say, soy sauce face?!” Katsuki taunted. “Say it to my fucking face.”  
  


“I _would_ , but you’re above me,” Hanta said, dragging himself up another step.  
  


“Damn right I’m above you, extra.”  
  


Hanta groaned, realizing he really set himself up for that one. He was honestly too tired to think of any sassy quips to fire back at Katsuki at the moment.  
  


“I’m sorely tempted to free fall, right now,” Hanta said, half-earnest. He was sure Omori and Ryuu could catch him.  
  


“Do it, pussy,” Katsuki responded without hesitation.  
  


“Well, that seals the deal, then,” Hanta said with a half-hearted shrug. “Sucks all the fun out when _you_ tell me to do it.”  
  


“Guess you’ll have to live the rest of your pathetic existence as a dumbass pussy, then,” Katsuki said with an intimidating sneer, although Hanta was too tired to care.  
  


He was sure if it were someone like Eijiro here in his stead, the redhead would scale this cliff-face without a hitch. He had no doubt Mina could decimate it, as well.  
  


Alas, _he_ was the one getting asked out to go _rock climbing_ , when his body’s really not in the proper shape he’d like it to be. Mina had often called him ‘beanpole’, and he couldn’t exactly disagree. He was tall, and thin, with noodle arms and no muscle mass to speak of. Considering Katsuki seemed to be a very active person, Hanta worried he might not be a good fit for him. He didn’t want to hold back Katsuki from enjoying physical activities just because he struggled with them. Maybe it was about time he started getting in shape.  
  


“Oi, soy sauce face, you went fucking quiet on me,” Katsuki snapped, drawing Hanta’s attention back to the blonde.  
  


“Sorry, sorry,” Hanta apologized sheepishly, nearly slipping on a faulty handhold. “Overthinking shit, man.”  
  


“Like?” Katsuki prompted.  
  


“Like, I dunno, I guess I need to get in shape?”  
  


Hanta phrased it more as a question than a statement.  
  


Katsuki scoffed, “Yeah. You do. There’s a fucking gym in the castle—use it.”  
  


“There is?” Hanta asked, mildly surprised. Then again, he shouldn’t have been all that shocked—there was _everything_ inside the palace.  
  


“Duh,” Katsuki snapped. “I’ll show you when you’re done, if you’re not ready to pass out.”  
  


Hanta chuckled nervously, “Might have to pass on that one, man, much as I don’t want to. I _already_ feel ready to pass out.”  
  


“Figures,” Katsuki commented lightly—for him, at least. “Guess I can show you some other time. Tch.”  
  


Hanta beamed, even though he knew Katsuki couldn’t see it. “Thanks!”  
  


“Don’t mention it.”

* * *

It was surprisingly hard to catch Kyoka alone. She had the tendency to cling to Momo like cling wrap whenever she wasn’t in Yamada’s company. Eijiro felt bad for dragging her away, but Kyoka had seemed perfectly willing to talk in private when he’d asked. She’d been even more willing to show him right to Aizawa’s room, not even waiting for an explanation.  
  


“I’m sure you have your reasons,” she’d said at the time.  
  


Which led Eijiro to him standing awkwardly outside Aizawa and Yamada’s door, suddenly feeling bad for invading on their privacy like this. Despite his initial hesitance, he slowly raised a fist towards the door, rearing to knock—  
  


“Eijiro!”  
  


Eijiro flinched at the sound of an exuberantly familiar voice ringing out from behind his back. Yamada was approaching at a brisk pace, trademark smile taking over his features.  
  


“Looking for Shouta?” Eijiro wordlessly nodded, feeling as though he’d been caught red-handed. “He should be right inside! Want me to get him for you?”  
  


“Uh, sure,” Eijiro agreed awkwardly.  
  


Yamada nodded, yanking the door open and disappearing inside the room, shutting the door behind him before Eijiro even had the chance to try and peak. Aizawa came out in his stead in a matter of seconds, Yamada following him closely.  
  


“Have fun, you two! See ya around, Eijiro!”  
  


Just like that, Yamada was gone, vanishing around a sharp corner to god knows where. Aizawa gave Eijiro an unimpressed look, seeming as though he’d rather be anywhere else.  
  


“What do you need?” The older man asked, not unkindly.  
  


Eijiro smiled sheepishly, “Maybe it’s better if we talk somewhere a little more private.”  
  


Aizawa let loose a long-suffering sigh, holding his door open wordlessly. Eijiro was quick to take his cue, shuffling in and listening as the door slid shut behind him.  
  


Aizawa and Yamada’s room like about how Eijiro had expected it. It was homely, but not cluttered. It almost seemed bare, in a way, no doubt Aizawa’s choice. Yamada seemed more like the type to store his memorabilia in a box in his closet, which probably made it easy to compromise for decorative purposes.  
  


“Stop staring, it’s creepy,” Aizawa snapped Eijiro back to attention, moving towards the small kitchen-like area built into the room. “Tea?”  
  


“Sure,” Eijiro agreed easily, moving towards a sofa near the very back of the room.  
  


He waited patiently as Aizawa brewed the tea, setting the steaming mugs on two coasters on his coffee table, taking a seat at the opposite end from Eijiro. The man sent him an expectant look—Eijiro’s cue to start talking.  
  


“I want to see Denki,” he said firmly. Aizawa didn’t seem all that surprised. “You know where he is?”  
  


“The general area, yeah,” Aizawa replied off-handedly. “I can take you to see him, soon. If you’re okay with it, a very close friend of mine is making the trip in a couple days. You could go with her, if you’d like.”  
  


“Who is she?” Eijiro questioned, first and foremost.  
  


“Her name’s Nemuri Kayama. She’s a personal maid and stylist to the Queen,” Aizawa explained. “I’ve known her most of my life. She’s trustworthy, if that’s what you’re worried about.”  
  


“Okay,” Eijiro agreed hesitantly. He cleared his throat, “Okay, sure. Just tell me the when and where, and I’ll be there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish Sero had more screen time in bnha. He's great
> 
> I can't stand rock climbing. Heights freak me out. Kudos to Sero and Bakugou
> 
> Here's the list of the Elite plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> Kirishima and Denki will get their reunion soon, promise! And don't think I forgot about that engagement ring Midnight gifted to Shinsou ;)
> 
> Til Friday!


	44. Fireworks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something to keep in mind before reading this chapter, I forgot to mention before that it is possible to buy your way up a caste. If you're a Seven, and you had enough money (which most Sevens would never be able to realistically make) you could your way up to being a Six, and so on and so forth. It's not super important, but it relates to something mentioned later in the chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

Eijiro had not yet made Nemuri Kayama’s acquaintance. She was a loud, flirtatious woman with the looks to back up her forward advancements. She ended up driving the carriage, most likely due to the fact that no one else was privy to the information of where they were going, and kept up light conversation the whole way there.  
  


She gush for at least twenty minutes straight about how purely adorable Eijiro was. He felt suitably embarrassed by the end of her rant, despite not even feeling any attraction towards women in general.  
  


Eijiro asked after Denki and Hitoshi, as well. Nemuri was all too happy to discuss the pair, despite apparently only having met up with them once. She mentioned talking to Hitoshi several times in passing while he was still at the palace. Nemuri then went on to explain her gift to the violet-haired boy, blabbering on about she hoped Hitoshi had popped the question by now.  
  


“Are you closer to Kaminari or Shinso?” She’d asked mid-ride.  
  


Eijiro hardly thought over the question, “Denki.” He paused, flushing. “Not that Shinso’s not great and all! It’s just, Denki was always the closest to him out of our friend group. Which I guess makes sense, since they’re getting married and all.”  
  


“ _Hopefully_ ,” Nemuri tacked on.  
  


“Could you imagine Denki saying _no_?” Eijiro fired back, shaking his head. “I wish Katsuki and I had a relationship like theirs. Without the, uh, getting publicly flogged bit and all . . .”  
  


“You called him _Katsuki_ ,” Nemuri cooed, making Eijiro blush. “That’s so cute! Ah, young love.”  
  


“Shut up,” Eijiro grumbled.  
  


“But, would you?”  
  


Eijiro felt himself growing confused by the sudden topic change. “Huh?”  
  


“Sorry, hon,” Nemuri apologized unnecessarily. “I meant, would you take a public beating like that for our little Prince?”  
  


“Yeah.”  
  


Eijiro was surprised to realize that was how he honestly felt. He hadn’t thought about it much, but if he had to be honest, Eijiro would go to near any lengths for the blonde. It was scary to realize how far he’d fallen for the boy.  
  


“That’s so romantic!” Nemuri gushed, squealing excitedly from the front row. “You should see your face! You’ve got this super steely look in your eyes, the whole “I’d die for you” kinda thing. So sweet!”  
  


Eijiro couldn’t fight off yet another blush. “Oh. Do I really?”  
  


Nemuri nodded enthusiastically. “I’m totally rooting for you, cutie! And the cute one with the two-toned hair.”  
  


“Uh, Todoroki?” Eijiro asked. He was pretty sure he didn’t know anyone else with hair of two different colors.  
  


“Yup, him!” Nemuri nodded. “He’s adorable. Oh, to be young and in love again!”  
  


Eijiro decided that even though Nemuri seemed mildly psychopathic, she was pretty cool. They kept talking about everything and nothing for the rest of the ride.  
  


Most of their conversations revolved around Katsuki, a topic that Eijiro could talk about for days. Whenever the blonde’s name was mentioned, Eijiro would go on, gushing about how amazing the man was for a good half an hour. He kept up his rants until they’d made it to their first stop, wandering around for a good few minutes before stopping upon sight of a wall coated in white paint.  
  


Eijiro couldn’t make any sense of what was written. It was an odd amalgamation of half formed squares or diamonds, some left blank and others with small drips of white paint in the center. Eijiro couldn’t tell if it was an accident, or completely intentional.  
  


“Oh, pigpen!” Nemuri exclaimed. “Good, I know this one.”  
  


Eijiro had no idea what ‘ _pigpen_ ’ meant, but he decided to keep quiet. Silently, he looked around, wondering where Denki and Hitoshi were.  
  


“Sorry, kiddo,” Nemuri apologized, backtracking the route they’d just come from. “That was a coded note from Kaminari and Shinso, telling me that they’d decided to head up towards Hosu. They’ve been town-hopping for a while now, trying to find a decently safe place to settle down at.”  
  


Eijiro groaned, “More driving?”  
  


Nemuri glared, “Are you complaining about my directing abilities?”  
  


“No ma’am,” Eijiro was quick to reply, not liking the dangerous glint in Nemuri’s eyes.  
  


“That’s what I thought.”

* * *

Ochaco couldn’t help but stare at her reflection in the mirror.  
  


Ochaco had never considered herself to be a particularly attractive person. She was kind, and well-meaning, but overall rather plain looking. She was naturally doe-eyed, with warm honeyed brown hair the same shade as her irises. Ochaco was born a mere six pounds, which caused her parents to worry slightly at the time. She’d always had a naturally twiggy frame, despite growing into her curves as time went on. Perhaps she hadn’t truly realized how much she really looked like a young lady, now.  
  


Her looks were, to be completely blunt, average on a good day. She was an unfortunately ugly crier. Ochaco’s hands were worn with an odd patchwork of scars and callouses, something her maids tried desperately to fix by lathering them in lotions constantly. Her hair was completely untamable—it always poofed out in just the wrong way, and she’d never been able to properly manage it in the past.  
  


Ochaco hated how much she thought about her looks. It wasn’t a near constant thing, but it was often enough for her to feel shameful. There were plenty other things, more _important_ things, for her to worry over than whether or not she was having a bad hair day.  
  


Still, these insecurities festered inside her for years, and after carrying light conversation with the other women participating in the Selection—all of whom she found to be absolutely stunning—she realized each girl had their own self-doubts. It wasn’t unnatural, the way she was feeling, but sometimes Ochaco wished she’d been blessed with the looks of someone like Momo.  
  


_Now_ , though, as Ochaco stared herself down from the wall mounted mirror in her bedroom, none of those self-deprecating thoughts came to mind. Instead, for once, she thought of how beautiful she looked.  
  


Naturally, she started crying.  
  


Ochaco didn’t have the tendency to cry at the drop of a hat, like Izuku often did, but she wasn’t shy about her emotions, either. She’d always struggled to be proud of her image in the past, but finally finding that moment where she looked in the mirror and felt nothing but _pride_ meant a lot to her. She just couldn’t help it when the waterworks started up.  
  


As soon as she heard sobbing, one of Ochaco’s maids came right to her aid. Ochaco couldn’t see who through the torrent of tears. Belatedly, she realized her crying was probably ruining all the nice makeup her maids had put so much effort into. She didn’t have the capacity in her to feel bad at the time.  
  


To put it simply, Ochaco looked like royalty.  
  


The Elite was well aware the stakes were being upped. Valentine’s Day was right around the corner, and Ochaco had the strong feeling that that would be when Katsuki would take the time to meet their families. It also seemed like an opportune moment for an elimination.  
  


Ochaco’s maids rose to meet the challenge, bringing out all the stops for this date. They were keeping very hush hush about her dress for Valentine’s Day, but Ochaco was sure anything they had in mind that was better than _this_ would have to utter perfection. She’d never seen something so fine, especially on her.  
  


Not to mention, the dress suited her _perfectly_. It was hard finding something for Ochaco to showcase, considering she was of a rather mediocre appearance. She’d long accepted this fact, convincing herself over and over again that she’d completely come to terms with it.  
  


Her hair, her eyes, her smile, her body—everything about her was average looking. Plain. Boring.  
  


But, in this get-up, she looked for more than ordinary.  
  


Luckily, her maids had had the forethought to use waterproof makeup. They carefully covered her dried tear tracks with additional foundation, and used eye drops to help lessen the reddening of her eyes. In only a few minutes’ time, she looked nearly as composed as she had moments before. Her maids truly were miracle workers.  
  


And then, her next stop—her upcoming date with Katsuki. They were meeting on the roof, as per usual. It had become their spot, of sorts. Ochaco quickly grew fond of running into him up there. She only hoped the lighting wasn’t so dim that her ensemble would go to waste. Ochaco would feel awful if that happened.  
  


Despite her anxieties, there was one plan Ochaco was looking forwards to putting into action. So far, both Izuku and Eijiro had managed to receive _multiple_ kisses, something Ochaco had to admit she was increasingly envious of. Especially since Katsuki had only come close to kissing one other person—that being Mina, who admitted she kissed him on the cheek during their first date.  
  


This time, though, _Ochaco_ would be the one receiving the kiss—if all went according to plan.

* * *

Hitoshi was waiting.  
  


He was waiting for a lot of things, really, like the next food haul from Aizawa. Despite Denki’s best efforts, Hitoshi noticed how he was eating less and less. The blonde had lost a considerable amount of weight over the course of the past month, and Hitoshi wasn’t sure what to do to help him. Denki all out refused any extra food Hitoshi offered, reminding him he needed to eat more anyways since he was taller. Hitoshi hated that he had a point.  
  


Aizawa had noticed too, if the amount of food he brought increasing was anything to go off of.  
  


But, that wasn’t the only thing Hitoshi was waiting for.  
  


He still hadn’t proposed yet, despite having plenty of time to do so. He kept the ring carefully hidden on his person at all times, not letting it slip out of his sight for even a moment.  
  


He’d blanched after being told how much the thing was worth. Definitely enough to buy both him and Denki up a caste. Maybe even two.  
  


Hitoshi definitely planned to propose before making any rash decisions, like selling it. He doubted Denki would say no to the idea, though, after the ring being presented to him. While it was certainly beautiful, living the life of a Six with mediocre engagement rings seemed much preferable to living the life of a lowly Eight, with one diamond studded ring as their one worthwhile possession.  
  


He was nervous about proposing, though. He couldn’t imagine the burning humiliation and agony if Denki said no. Hitoshi honestly didn’t think the blonde _would_ say no—they’d been through so much together, after all. That didn’t help him completely shake his nerves, though, and so, he waited.  
  


And waited.  
  


And _waited_.  
  


There were so many things he’d tell himself, any excuse to get out of actually going through with the daunting task. At first, he’d told himself he was just waiting for them to settle down somewhere.  
  


Now, they _had_. Hitoshi had originally been skeptical of Hosu, especially since that was where Stain had last attacked before getting arrested. Hitoshi had assumed it would be chilly there, since they always had horrible snowfalls nearing a foot high during the winter, but the weather had been considerably nice considering the season.  
  


The police force had increased its standards since the Stain incident, and crime rates had dropped considerably. It was an ideal place to live, especially for a pair of homeless wanderers.  
  


Still, Hitoshi waited.  
  


He told himself that proposing on Valentine’s Day would be a cute idea, one Denki would surely appreciate. And so, he made up his mind—there was no if, and, or buts about it. He was proposing on Valentine’s Day.  
  


So, rather than wait, Hitoshi _prepared_.  
  


He had a whole mental script written out in his mind, that he practiced daily whenever the chance arose. He wanted this to go perfectly. Denki deserved as much.  
  


He asked Aizawa for advice, too, wondering who had been the one to ask who. Aizawa revealed he proposed to Yamada, the latter ending up bawling on the ground without giving a definitive answer. Hitoshi really hoped Denki didn’t start crying. He wasn’t sure he’d be any good at handling the situation if he did.  
  


Other than revealing how it had gone down between him and Yamada, Aizawa hadn’t really been much help at all. Hitoshi was seriously hoping Nemuri came back before Valentine’s Day. He was sure the woman would have much more sound advice to share.  
  


As if summoned by his very thoughts, the woman herself stopped by only a couple hours later. And, with a guest.  
  


“ _Eijiro!_ ”  
  


Hitoshi quietly shushed his boyfriend, who in turn blushed and stuttered out an apology, excitedly whispering his best friend’s name. Eijiro tackled the smaller blonde in a hug. Denki squeezed back, only cutting off the hug when his lips started turning blue.  
  


“I’m so glad to see you!” Eijiro said excitedly, one arm still slung comfortably over his friend’s shoulder. “I was so happy when Aizawa told us you were okay!”  
  


“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you sooner,” Hitoshi cut in drily. “He’s been visiting us for a while.”  
  


“Oh, you know Shouta,” Nemuri said, easily waving away Hitoshi’s comment. “He’s always so secretive. I’m surprised he told them at all.”  
  


“I guess,” Hitoshi replied with a shrug. “I need to talk to you about something, Midnight.”  
  


“Midnight?” Eijiro spoke up curiously.  
  


“It’s a nickname of mine,” Nemuri explained. “But, boys, just call me Nemuri!”  
  


“Sure,” Hitoshi said, lying through his teeth. “Anyways, can we talk?”  
  


“Sure thing, hon!” She exclaimed, pulling a pack off her back. “Here, Kaminari, honey, take this, will you? It’s got food and paint inside.”  
  


Denki’s eyes lit up at the mention of food. He hardly hesitated before snatching the pack from Nemuri’s outstretched hand and rummaging through it hurriedly.  
  


Hitoshi led Nemuri out of earshot of Denki and Eijiro, blabbering on to each other about something related to the Selection. Hitoshi didn’t bother listening, instead directing his attention to the woman in front of him.  
  


“Okay, look, I’d really rather be asking anyone else this, but I feel like you’d give me the most straightforward advice.”  
  


“I’m listening,” Nemuri said, cocking her head to the side.  
  


“I plan to propose to Denki on Valentine’s Day.” He sighed at the sound of Nemuri’s excited squeal, something about how romantic it all was. “I’m not sure how to go about proposing, though. Any advice?”  
  


Nemuri nodded, face more serious than Hitoshi had ever seen it. “Denki’s not a materialistic person, I can tell. I would know, since I _am_. Anyways, that boy would say yes even if you were wearing a trash bag and forcing him to wear a ring older than your great-great grandmother. You don’t need any big gestures, honny—just be yourself. He loves _you_ , not some ring.”  
  


Hitoshi mulled over what she said, nervously picking at his nails. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Midnight.”  
  


“I _told_ you to call me Nemuri!”

* * *

Ochaco arrived on the roof before Katsuki did. The stars were glittering like little specks of silver in the night sky, shimmering bright against the black expanse of twilight.  
  


It didn’t take long for Katsuki to catch up to her. Surprisingly enough, he was a few minutes late. Ochaco didn’t mind the wait at all.  
  


“Nice dress,” he complimented gruffly, earning a beaming smile in return. “Been waiting long?”  
  


“Nope!” Ochaco chirped, popping the ‘p’. She stood cautiously nearly the edge, overlooking the palace grounds encased in the night atmosphere. “Only a few minutes. It’s so pretty up here.”  
  


“Yeah,” Katsuki agreed.  
  


Ochaco noticed he seemed quieter than usual. She wasn’t sure whether she should ask what’s wrong, or leave him be. Ultimately, she decided the former.  
  


“Hey, everything alright?” She asked shyly, twisting her hands nervously.  
  


“It’s whatever.” Katsuki shrugged, barely containing a scowl. “My parents are assholes.”  
  


Ochaco frowned, “That sucks. Everyone’s got such high expectations for you, huh?”  
  


“I can handle it,” Katsuki snapped.  
  


Ochaco continued twisting her hands together. “It’s alright to feel overwhelmed, sometimes. It’s only natural.”  
  


“I’m the _crowned Prince_ ,” Katsuki seethed, now pacing back and forth along the length of the roof. “I’m not _allowed_ to feel overwhelmed, or any of that shit.”  
  


“I can’t exactly say I understand, because I don’t. I don’t know what it’s like for my life to feel completely out of my control, but I can guess, at least. You’re strong, Prince Bakugou, stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. If anyone could fight the system, it’s you.”  
  


“Tch. Thanks, I guess,” he muttered, ears tinted a noticeable red. Ochaco smiled, but kept the observation to herself. “Shouldn’t’ve dumped this on you, though.”  
  


“I don’t mind,” Ochaco insisted earnestly. “I’m glad you feel comfortable confiding in me.”  
  


“I’ve been talking to Hound Dog some,” Katsuki admitted quietly. “But I don’t really talk much. He makes me fucking uncomfortable, I dunno.”  
  


“You could try finding another therapist, one you feel more comfortable talking to,” Ochaco advised patiently.  
  


“He’s not a fucking therapist!”  
  


“Then what is he?” Ochaco asked, tone even.  
  


“I dunno, a counselor or some shit? I’m not fucking crazy, I don’t need a damn therapist,” Katsuki practically growled, abruptly stopping his incessant pacing.  
  


Ochaco shook her head, “Seeing a therapist doesn’t make you crazy. Do you think of Kirishima as crazy? Or Mina, or Sero?”  
  


“. . . No. Guess not.”  
  


“Hound Dog has been meeting with them once a week for _therapy_ sessions,” Ochaco reminded him, smiling softly. “You’re just as sane as them. Okay?”  
  


“Whatever,” Katsuki replied, although he sounded a tad less upset than before. “Let’s talk about something else.”  
  


Ochaco chuckled, carefully stepping to stand at Katsuki’s side. The blonde didn’t seem to mind her presence, so she held her stance, wondering if he’d be okay with her coming any closer.  
  


“Sure!” She chirped, back to her enthusiastic self. “What do you want to talk about?”  
  


“Anything,” Katsuki bit out with a mindless shrug. “Valentine’s Day is coming up.”  
  


“Mhm!” Ochaco exclaimed, getting a starry look in her eyes. “I’m really excited. I’ve never really had the chance to celebrate Valentine’s Day before.”  
  


“I have, unfortunately,” Katsuki grumbled. “We’re having another damn ball this year. All of your guys’ families are coming here.”  
  


Ochaco’s eyes shone, “Really?!”  
  


“Yeah.”  
  


“I figured that was the case, but I’m really glad to hear confirmation!” Ochaco gushed. “I miss my parents.”  
  


“There’s gonna be an elimination too.”  
  


Ochaco felt her heart sink upon hearing those words.  
  


“There will be?” She asked, voice barely above a whisper.  
  


“What do you think I was fighting with my parents about?” Katsuki grumbled in confirmation. “Said if I don’t eliminate someone that night, they’re eliminating someone in my place.”  
  


“They can’t do that!” Ochaco immediately protested, feeling a surge of anger well up in her chest. Katsuki gave her a blank look. “I thought you had the final say?”  
  


“I’m _supposed_ to have the final say, but my parents decided I’ve been taking too long, or whatever,” Katsuki bristled, scowling at any mention of his parents. “Said they’re gonna get rid of soy sauce face if I don’t speak up.”  
  


Ochaco tried to remember who Katsuki was referring to. “Uh, Sero?”  
  


He nodded, “Yeah. Cuz he ranked last during the fucking popularity polls.”  
  


Ochaco could feel the worsening atmosphere, and swiftly tried to direct the topic away from Katsuki’s parents. “If _you_ could rank us, what would your rankings be?”  
  


“I’m not answering that.”  
  


Ochaco laughed, “Aw, come on! I won’t tell.”  
  


“Nope,” Katsuki firmly denied, the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.  
  


“Okay, well, at least where would _I_ be on the list?” Ochaco persisted.  
  


“I definitely not fucking answering _that_ ,” Katsuki replied, shaking his head. “Keep asking and I’m moving you down to eighth.”  
  


“Saying you’d move me down implies that I was originally higher than last.” Ochaco replied with a cheeky grin.  
  


Katsuki groaned.  
  


“Fine, fine, I’ll stop!” Ochaco relented, hardly letting up on her grin. “Although I _am_ curious.”  
  


“I hate all of you extras equally.” Ochaco rolled her eyes. “I’ll give you a ranking of who’s the biggest pain in my ass. Spoiler alert—you’re all tied for first.”  
  


“First place!” Ochaco cheered. “Woohoo!”  
  


“Excuse me while I go gag,” Katsuki grumbled.  
  


“The words ‘excuse me’ sound so foreign coming out of your mouth,” Ochaco muttered.  
  


“Hey!” Katsuki yelled, eyebrows scrunching in anger. Ochaco couldn’t help herself from giggling. “I have fucking manners, round face!”  
  


“Yet you call me _round face_ ,” she teased relentlessly. Katsuki scowled, crossing his arms and huffing petulantly.  
  


“Well, guess I’ve made up my mind on who I’m eliminating.”  
  


“Aw, you don’t mean that!” Ochaco replied, laughing behind her hand.  
  


“What kind of sicko laughs after being told they’re gonna be eliminated,” Katsuki asks, eyeing her judgmentally. Ochaco only laughs harder.  
  


“Seriously, seriously,” Ochaco cuts in. “Enough teasing. My stomach hurts.”  
  


“Weak,” Katsuki bristles. “I’m not dancing with any of you fucking extras on Valentine’s Day.”  
  


“You said the same thing on your mother’s birthday, and yet I saw you and Kirishima together _all_ night,” Ochaco pointed out.  
  


“Not all night,” Katsuki grumbled.  
  


“Sure, whatever,” Ochaco relented disbelievingly. She decidedly ignored his venomous glare. “We’re definitely dancing on Valentine’s Day. I’ve been practicing!”  
  


“Of course you have,” Katsuki said with a sigh. “We danced one time and I’m pretty fucking sure you stepped on my toes at least a good eight fucking times.”  
  


“Who’s to say it wasn’t on purpose?”  
  


“It better fucking not have been,” Katsuki glowered. “I may just have to fucking kill you.”  
  


Ochaco giggled, “Ha! I’d like to see you try.”  
  


Katsuki lunged then, his movements playful and painfully predictable. It was clear to see he meant no real harm. Ochaco played along, dancing just out of range before Katsuki could nab her. The blonde kept up his playful pursuit, with Ochaco dodging at the last moment.  
  


Ochaco grew bored quickly, and Katsuki seemed much the same. Without a second thought, Ochaco sprung at him, clinging to his back like a koala. The blonde roared, spinning around to try and throw her off, but Ochaco kept on, laughing all the while.  
  


Katsuki resigned to his fate, plopping on the ground with a defeated sigh.  
  


“Do you yield?” Ochaco asked teasingly, barely containing her laughter.  
  


“Shut up,” Katsuki growled, still trying unsuccessfully to shake the small girl off.  
  


Ochaco climbed off his back, carefully coming to sit at his side so she wouldn’t mess up her dress. The girl sighed, leaning against Katsuki’s shoulder. Katsuki didn’t push her away, so she took it as a win.  
  


“There’s the big dipper,” Katsuki pointed out, directing Ochaco’s eyes towards the shimmering constellation. He continued pointing out more and more, odd shapes and figures filling the night sky.  
  


“The stars are so pretty,” Ochaco said, sighing. “Sometimes I wish I were a star. I’d be beautiful.”  
  


In a rare moment of affection, Katsuki murmured, “You already are.”  
  


Ochaco spun her head towards him in surprise, blushing furiously. “You, you really think so?”  
  


Katsuki shrugged, keeping his gaze focused on the night sky. “Yeah.”  
  


Ochaco beamed, bumping his shoulder to try and get his attention. The beautiful crimson color of her eyes stole her breath away.  
  


“I think you’re beautiful, too,” she muttered absentmindedly, blinking upon realizing what she said. “I mean handsome! You’re very handsome.”  
  


Katsuki snorted, “Thanks.”  
  


They stared a moment longer, searching for something in each other’s eyes.  
  


“Hey, Prince Bakugou?” Ochaco whispered, inching forwards almost instinctually.  
  


“Hm?”  
  


“Can I kiss you?”  
  


Katsuki didn’t bother with a verbal reply, instead leaning forwards to meet her in the middle. Ochaco shut her eyes, feeling her mouth slot against Katsuki’s, touching for the briefest of moments. Fireworks exploded in her chest, cascading all the way down to the tips of her toes.  
  


It was only a second, but that second meant the world to Ochaco.  
  


That second told her that this was love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kiri and Kami finally got their reunion! Yay! Sorry I kind of just glossed over that moment, but Hitoshi's proposal is more of a priority for me over their reunion.
> 
> Here's the list of the Elite, plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> Next chapter is Valentine's Day! Cameo's from everyone's family (where I'm mostly making up everyone's family dynamics), plus a long overdue elimination. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, see you guys Tuesday!


	45. Meet the Parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dividing the Valentine's Day chapter up into multiple parts. SoRrY
> 
> This is just the arrival of the families.
> 
> Enjoy!

Inko had been a bundle of fraying nerves ever since her baby’s name had been drawn for the Selection. She didn’t learn he’d entered his name until after the fact, the boy returning home much later than usual with a sheepish smile, explaining that he _may_ have entered his name for the Prince’s upcoming Selection. Inko, naturally, had started crying.  
  


She wasn’t sure what to interpret the tears as. Of course, her baby boy had had a humongous crush on the Prince for years. She was so glad he had this opportunity. But it also made her realize that Izuku was starting to really grow up, and was nearing the age for marriage before her very own eyes.  
  


Before she’d even realized, Izuku was off to the palace, and Inko was left with an adorable little girl with hair white as snow, and eyes the color of apples. Eri had been exceptionally shy at first, but quickly grew familiar and comfortable staying with Inko. She seemed particularly attached to any of Izuku’s more prized possessions, clinging to them like a lifeline, as though they were Izuku himself.  
  


She kept in constant touch with her son via letters, which she didn’t get many of. Izuku had told her early on that being a part of the Selection made him incredibly busy a lot of the time, and he was struggling to find time to write to her. On the plus side, he’d mentioned, he’d finally found himself a group of friends that he frequently talked to and hung out with. He talked about a boy named Shoto particularly often. Inko was pleased to find out two of his close friends made it into the Elite with him.  
  


Inko had cried when it was revealed Izuku had made it into the final eight. He’d seemed so nervous on TV, but so incredibly happy at the same time. Eri had been absolutely delighted to see him, begging her to go to the town square every Friday, if only for a brief glimpse of Izuku.  
  


A man showed up at her house at the start of February. He had explained that she and Eri’s presence had been requested at the palace from the morning of the fourteenth through to the seventeenth. Inko couldn’t wait to see her precious son again. Eri nearly started vibrating with excitement at the news.  
  


There wasn’t much to pack. She hardly had anything to carry her belongings in, regardless. The man who had come to her house, who eventually revealed his name to be Shouta Aizawa, explained they’d provide most necessities there. Eri ended up filling most of their luggage with some of Izuku’s things, mostly odd trinkets and possessions that Inko had either bought for him or he’d saved up for.  
  


After careful preparation, they departed two weeks later for the long journey towards the palace. Inko realized, belatedly, that she’d be seeing Mitsuki again. They’d kept in touch when Mitsuki had originally went away to compete in the King’s own Selection, but after taking on her Queenly duties, she found less and less time to communicate. The pair fell mostly out of touch, and hadn’t spoken in years. If Katsuki’s birth hadn’t been broadcasted over national television, Inko was sure she wouldn’t have known her former best friend had given birth, while Inko herself was still pregnant no less. She wondered if Mitsuki had put together the pieces between her and Izuku already. Knowing the woman’s sharp mind, she probably had.  
  


The day-long journey towards the heart of Shizuoka, where the palace resided, gave Inko lots of time to think. Eri fell asleep within the first hour of the ride, enclosing the small space of the carriage in a comfortable silence. Eri slept soundlessly, hardly moving an inch as she leaned against Inko’s side, using the woman as a glorified pillow, of sorts.  
  


Inko couldn’t wait to see Izuku again. She wasn’t used to them being apart this long. Ever since she could remember, they’d been together. Hisashi, when he left, had originally tried to convince Inko to come with, and leave Izuku behind. All it took was one look at her starry-eyed five-year-old to know she could _never_ abandon that beautiful child of hers. As much as it pained her to see the love of her life walk away, Inko stuck at Izuku’s side, carefully nurturing him and ensuring he grew up in a loving household.  
  


She didn’t have much time for friends, what with work and taking care of Izuku. She sometimes wondered what it would be like if Mitsuki were still there. If they had gotten the chance to raise their sons together, and learn from each other’s experiences and mistakes. Inko knows raising her son would’ve felt a thousand times easier with Mitsuki’s no nonsense attitude to keep her going.  
  


Inko thought some about whether or not it’d be awkward to see Mitsuki again. While she knew the woman hadn’t been intentionally avoiding her, they’d both changed in all that time they’d been apart. How was Inko to know that the woman she’d be seeing is the same Mitsuki she’d always thought of as her best friend? Best case scenario, they rekindled their friendship and got back on speaking terms with one another. Worst case—well, maybe it’s best if Inko didn’t think too hard about it. She could already feel tears threatening to spill at just the thought of Mitsuki possibly hating her. If the woman wanted nothing to do with her, Inko wasn’t entirely sure she could just move on so easily. It was much easier living with the unknown, wondering but never truly knowing. Now, there’d be no doubts about Mitsuki’s feelings on the matter, and Inko wasn’t sure if she’d like the truth.  
  


She tried not to dwell on it long. Right now, Izuku needed to be at the forefront of her mind.

* * *

Mitsuki was stressed.  
  


Then again, she was _always_ stressed, but this felt _different_. She was in a shitty mood, and anyone in a fifty foot radius could tell. Masaru had slipped off nearly three hours ago, muttering something about finishing up some last minute negotiations with the journalists coming by that night. Many had already arrived, snapping pictures of Mitsuki constantly while she was busy trying to _work_ and _not_ think about her former best friend.  
  


There was no doubt in the woman’s mind that Inko still remembered her—she was the _Queen_ for Christ’s sake. Unfortunately, though, she and Inko had long fallen out of contact. She’d managed to milk quite a bit of information out of Izuku about his and her past, although he rarely ever went into too great of detail. Mitsuki knew how shitty life as a Six was, and she hated that her best friend’s son had to grow up in that environment. Yet again, she wished she had done more to help.  
  


If she had taken the time to simply offer Inko a well-paying job at the palace, and give her and Izuku a safe environment to live and flourish in, maybe things would have been different. They’d still be friends, for one. Katsuki would’ve been able to grow up with another kid his age around. Mitsuki loved Akira, and was glad that her son had managed to form such a lasting bond with the girl, but sometimes Mitsuki wished there were more kids Katsuki’s age for him to mingle with.  
  


Honestly, Mitsuki couldn’t be gladder that Izuku managed to make it into the Selection. She was ecstatic that Katsuki had taken such a quick liking to the boy, and that the pair were close. It made her feel nostalgic for the days where it was just her and Inko against what felt like the world. All until that day where they’d both stuffed their hastily scribbled names into that drawing and Mitsuki had been carried away into a life of glamour and luxury, leaving Inko behind. Mitsuki wouldn’t blame the woman if she resented her, really.

There was so much for them to catch up on, if they could. There was no guarantee that Inko would have any plausible interest in talking to her, but if so, Mitsuki wanted to know _everything_. She wondered about Izuku’s father, of whom the boy hardly spoke of. Whenever Mitsuki asked after the man, Izuku just said he left when he was really young, and that he hardly remembered anything about him. Mitsuki wasn’t even able to scrape up a name, or even a generic description.  
  


Izuku had turned out great—Mitsuki always knew Inko would make for a wonderful mother. Her boy was a near carbon copy of the woman, his green hair and eyes prominent in Mitsuki’s mind. Not to mention his kind spirit and proclivity towards crying over slight matters.  
  


Sometimes, looking at him, Mitsuki could see some of his father’s features stand out. It was in his constellation of freckles, or dimples you could dig holes straight to China in. She even saw it in the gentle slope of his nose, the way his whole body seemed to blush, or even just his smile. Mitsuki wondered, time and time again, where the hell his father was.  
  


She also wondered whether or not she would have been a better mother without the stress of palace life. Perhaps, with Inko there to keep her in check, she and Katsuki could’ve had a better relationship. Instead, they were at each other’s throats every chance they got. Mitsuki longed for a healthier relationship with her boy, but she feared it was far too late to change anything. Who’s to say Katsuki even wants a lasting bond with her, after all the shit she’s put him through. She knows she’s tough on him, but all she wants is the best for him. Maybe she’s been too strict, lately.  
  


There’s so much she would change if given the chance. There’s so much Mitsuki misses about her old life—the simplicity of it, most of all. Life as a Six was hard, no doubt, but it was what she knew. Royalty? Expectation? Business? She knew nothing about the world she lived in, even after having been married to Masaru for a good long while, now. Sometimes, Mitsuki would sit in her room and imagine what things would be like if it were still just her and Inko, two best friends in a world that doesn’t care.  
  


She wonders if Inko misses that too.

* * *

Fuyumi wasn’t sure whether she should be relieved, or worried.  
  


On one hand, the palace staff had showed her to her own personal room. On the other, Natsuo was stuck in close quarters with their father, of all people, for _three days_. It sounded like borderline torture.  
  


Through her odd mix of mild panic and slight relief, she was also glad. It wasn’t often Fuyumi was able to spend quality time with her baby brother, and she hoped now would be as good a time as any. They were being ordered to proceed with the utmost caution—the arrival of the Elite’s family was meant to be a surprise. Based on the predictability of the Selected’s situation, Fuyumi had a feeling Shoto probably already knew they were coming. She only hoped father wasn’t _too_ harsh on him. As long as they avoided finding themselves alone, Fuyumi was sure her brother would be alright.  
  


Natsuo was clearly antsy to see his heterochromatic brother. Their father had left, running to fetch himself lunch. He hadn’t bothered stopping to ask whether she or Natsuo wanted anything. Fuyumi didn’t mind. She’d grab him and her something to eat soon.  
  


Natsuo was nearly bouncing off the walls in his excitement. Despite having to arrive and share a room with father, he didn’t let that cold fact take away the thrill of it all. They lived life in the lap of luxury, in a mansion big enough that they never had to look their father in the face once. _This_ was even _better_. She thought they had it good, but nothing could top the palace.  
  


She was itching to explore. Fuyumi had never really been the curious type, instead being quiet and composed at all times. Natsuo always said she was lucky to be born a girl. The “ _or else dad would’ve abused you, same he did Shoto_ ” went unsaid. Fuyumi always felt insurmountable guilt for feeling relieved that Shoto had to suffer that fate rather than her. She was fully aware that, despite father’s neglect, she and Natsuo had it much better than their brother. Shoto hardly even had a childhood, being thrown into lessons and ‘training’ by the age of three. Ever since, Fuyumi hardly saw hide nor hair of him.  
  


Before she’d had time to realize, Shoto was all grown up. He was set to take over father’s company in only a couple years, granted he didn’t win the Selection. Fuyumi is sure father wouldn’t be smugger than if his son were to become the next King. Fuyumi was sure Shoto would just cut the man off if that were the case, only further igniting the man’s fury. The thought made her laugh.  
  


“What’s so funny?” Natsuo spoke up, setting down a magazine he’d been mindlessly flipping through.  
  


“I was just thinking of what if Shoto won,” she said, leaning her head against the headboard. “And him cutting dad off immediately after.”  
  


Despite himself, Natsuo broke down into a fit of giggles. “God, can you imagine? ‘ _Shoto, this teenage rebellion of yours has gone too far!’_ ”  
  


Fuyumi scoffed, “Please, that’s a mild reaction. We both know he’d rather talk with his fists.”  
  


Both brother and sister grimaced at the sickening notion.  
  


“At least Shoto’s out of that environment for now,” Natsuo mentioned optimistically.  
  


It was something Fuyumi herself had found herself thinking on gloomier days to cheer herself up. While she’s well aware father forced Shoto to enter, at least her brother doesn’t have to be around that despicable man anymore. She almost wishes they didn’t have to visit, if only so father didn’t have any way of physically talking to Shoto.  
  


“I wonder how he’s doing,” Fuyumi commented lightly. “I hope he’s made some friends.”  
  


“Are you sure we’re not allowed to go see him?” Natsuo whined, flipping back and forth incessantly in his bed.  
  


Fuyumi huffed a small laugh at her brother’s antics. “I’m sure, Natsuo. But . . .”  
  


“But?”  
  


“There’s nothing against us going to see the _other_ Elite, right?”  
  


A mischievous grin found its way onto Natsuo’s face at the rebellious suggestion.

* * *

Kyoka often found herself wandering the palace.  
  


Yamada knew the place like the back of his hand, striding down never-ending corridors and sharp turns like it was second nature. Kyoka wished she had that kind of confidence walking around this place.  
  


So, during bouts of rare free time, Kyoka explored. She made friends with a lot of the staff, hearing some plenty good gossip about either the Elite or the royal family. She kept her mouth mostly shut about this information, only laughing with Momo about it afterwards. She knew the woman was far too generous to tell.  
  


After a while, the monotonous hallways began to seem familiar to her. When Yamada asked her to go fetch something from a specific place, it wouldn’t take an hour of wandering to find. Kyoka felt, oddly, proud.  
  


Yamada had been busy prepping for the Valentine’s Day ball most of the week, leaving Kyoka with plenty of free time. She always found herself wandering close to the Selected’s parlor, but never entering. She knew Kendo often went inside to talk to Neito, but Kyoka still felt awkward hanging around the Elite. Every time she did so, the realization that she wasn’t one of them anymore came to mind.  
  


And so, with a slight frown, Kyoka turned on her heel and walked away.  
  


Only to walk right into a boy and a girl moments later.  
  


For some reason, they looked oddly familiar. At least, the boy definitely did.  
  


“Oh, hey!” The boy called out, his voice loud and chipper. “I know you! Jiro, right?”  
  


“Yeah,” Kyoka replied curtly. “Do I know you?”  
  


“Oh, no, you don’t,” the girl replied. “We’re Shoto’s siblings. Although, we were told we’re not allowed to see him yet . . .”  
  


Kyoka shrugged, “I guess. It’s supposed to be a surprise, but I’m pretty sure the Prince already told Uraraka. And, knowing her, she probably told Midoriya, who probably told Todoroki, so . . . he probably knew you were coming.”  
  


Fuyumi nodded her acknowledgement. “Are those friends of his? Midoriya and Uraraka?”  
  


“Yup,” Kyoka confirmed. “He and Midoriya are practically attached at the hip.”  
  


Natsuo’s eyes shimmered. Shoto had never been given the opportunity to make friends before. Father had homeschooled him, and otherwise he’d hardly been allowed to leave the house. Not without father there with him. Friends was out of the question.  
  


“That’s great!” He exclaimed, voicing his thoughts. “He’s never had many friends before.”  
  


Kyoka nodded, “He seemed really closed off at first. But, y’know, Midoriya’s just got that infectious friendliness.”  
  


“We should meet him,” Fuyumi said, the comment clearly directed towards her brother.  
  


“Yeah! Do you know where he is, Jiro?”  
  


Kyoka nodded her head to the side, towards where the Selected’s parlor is. “You’ll see a door a little ways back. I can go get him, if you want.”  
  


“Sure!” They replied in unison.  
  


Kyoka huffed a small laugh, walking back the way she’d just came. Aizawa was outside the door, seemingly as bored as ever.  
  


“Hey, Jiro,” he greeted tiredly.  
  


“Hey, Aizawa,” she said, raising a hand in an awkward and brief wave. “Mind getting Midoriya for me?”  
  


The man shrugged, opening the door and calling out the greenette’s name.  
  


“Um, what is it, sir?” Kyoka could hear the shy boy’s voice leak out into the quiet hallway.  
  


“Come here,” is all he said, turning away from the door as the boy stood up.  
  


Kyoka could hear the soft pattering of footsteps, and then Izuku himself stuck his head outside the door, looking back and forth in confusion.  
  


“What’s up?”  
  


“Hey, hey, Midoriya,” Kyoka spoke up, effectively grabbing the boys attention. “Come with me. Someone wants to see you.”  
  


The boy sent her a hopeful look, waiting until Aizawa was out of earshot to ask, “Is it my mom?”  
  


Kyoka snorted. “Of course Uraraka told you they were coming. _No_ , it’s not your mom—someone else’s family, actually.”  
  


Izuku bit his lip, face morphing into one of concentration. Kyoka sighed.  
  


“Just wait and see.”

* * *

Enji was the last person Dabi expected to run into in the kitchens.  
  


Of course he knew that the Elite’s family was coming and, by default, his own family as well. He just didn’t expect his deadbeat sperm donor to be the first one he ran into, out of all the Todoroki’s he might’ve stumbled across.  
  


The man had taken one look at him, and _knew_.  
  


“Touya.”  
  


Dabi _flinched_. It was a reflex, at this point, after several long, painful years suffering under his abuse.  
  


“. . . Enji.”  
  


“You’re supposed to be dead,” the man growled, taking a heavy step forwards, towards him.  
  


“Guess you thought wrong,” Dabi could hardly keep his voice from shaking, the unbidden old fear creeping back up at the sight of a man he thought he’d escaped. “I’ve been thriving.”  
  


Enji scoffed, “You’re shaking. Pathetic.”  
  


Dabi couldn’t help but sigh as Enji stalked away, footsteps clanging heavily against the tiled floor. With one final, venomous glare, he was gone, with the threat of him doing worse hanging in the tense air.

* * *

Izuku woke up to find an emerald colored rose outside his door.  
  


His maid had been the one to originally discover it, gushing about how Katsuki had probably left it as a romantic gesture for Valentine’s Day. Due to the lack of a note, Izuku doubted it.  
  


He had an inkling that the rose was probably from Shoto—Ochaco would have left a note, or just given it to him in person. Izuku knew Shoto had the tendency to be shy, and awkward at times. Izuku reminded himself to ask about it later, and thank Shoto if he were the one that left it.  
  


Izuku was in a good mood after the sweet beginning to his day. Breakfast had tasted amazing, as usual. Izuku still had trouble believing he was allowed to eat as much as he wanted, any time. Fasting had become a regular occurrence between him and his mother when they were running short on cash. Now, Izuku found himself hardly ever thinking about money. It was relaxing, in a way.  
  


He spent the day with Ochaco and Shoto, their group apparently void of Momo. Izuku managed to catch a moment alone with Shoto, as Ochaco went off to question Mina on something.  
  


“Sorry if this is a, um, weird question, but . . .” Izuku hesitated at the look Shoto was giving him, as if he had his undivided attention. “Uh, did you leave a rose outside my door?”  
  


A faint pink blush spread over Shoto’s cheeks and nose, even finding itself spreading to the tips of his ears. A part of Izuku thought the sight was absolutely adorable.  
  


“. . . Maybe.”  
  


Izuku poked his cheek, grinning sheepishly. “You could’ve just given it to me in person, Shoto. And thanks, by the way. It was . . . really pretty.”  
  


Shoto muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘ _just like you_ ’.  
  


“Glad you like it,” he said, louder.  
  


It wasn’t much longer after that when the door had opened abruptly, Aizawa calling out _his_ name.  
  


Izuku shifted nervously, “Um, what is it, sir?”  
  


“Come here,” the man said briefly, turning away from the door if his further silence was any indication.  
  


Izuku stood, slowly making his way towards the door and sticking his head out. He looked up and down the hallway, trying to figure out what Aizawa might need him for.  
  


“What’s up?”  
  


“Hey, hey, Midoriya,” a feminine voice spoke up, redirecting Izuku’s attention towards Kyoka. “Come with me. Someone wants to see you.”  
  


The first person that came to mind for Izuku was his mom. He remembered Ochaco mentioning that their families were coming by for Valentine’s Day the other day when they were writing a letter to Tenya. He’d immediately passed the information along to Shoto, who had a less than savory—yet ultimately expected—reaction.  
  


He waited until Aizawa was out of earshot before asking, knowing full well they weren’t already supposed to know.  
  


“Is it my mom?”  
  


Kyoka snorted, smiling slightly. “Of course Uraraka told you they were coming.” Izuku couldn’t help his blush. “ _No,_ it’s not your mom—someone else’s family, actually.”  
  


Izuku tried to think of whose family it might be. Maybe Uraraka’s? Shoto had siblings, he remembered.  
  


After one look, Izuku knew the latter was definitely the case. They didn’t look so similar where they were basically just older versions of Shoto, but he could see some of Shoto’s more prominent features standing out in his siblings as well. Something that stood out was the silver color of their eyes, just like Shoto’s right.  
  


Kyoka left them moments later, hardly sticking around to introduce them. Izuku didn’t blame her, it was probably a little awkward.  
  


“You guys must be Natsuo and Fuyumi?” Izuku phrased it more as a question, a little unsure of whether or not he got the names right.  
  


Natsuo’s face lit up. “Yeah, that’s us! Does Shoto talk about us?”  
  


“Some,” Izuku relented. Most of what Shoto had said was a basic description, especially after revealing his father hardly allowed him to interact with them. “He said you guys aren’t, uh, that close.”  
  


Fuyumi grimaced, “He’s not wrong.”  
  


“Our family’s kinda fucked up,” Natsuo said, sneering. Fuyumi cut a glare his way.  
  


“Shut _up_ , Natsuo,” she scolded.  
  


Izuku frowned, “It’s alright. Shoto already told me about—” he paused, coughing awkwardly, “you know.”  
  


“You two must be close,” Fuyumi changed the topic. “He’s never had many friends.”  
  


“Yeah. He told me,” Izuku said sympathetically. “I’ve never had many friends either. I’ve always been kind of, um, y’know, annoying? I’m glad Shoto feels comfortable around me, despite that.”  
  


As they talked, they began slowly walking away from the parlor, Izuku indirectly leading them towards the gardens, a place him and Shoto frequented.  
  


“You’re not annoying!” Natsuo protested firmly. “Shoto’s super awkward. You’re definitely doing something right if you managed to get him to come out of his shell. He hardly even talks to me, and we’re related.”  
  


“Blood doesn’t mean everything,” Izuku reminded grimly. “Sorry. I know you’re not a bad brother—Shoto hasn’t had a single bad thing to say about either of you. He doesn’t talk about you guys much, but when, uh, when he does, I mean.”  
  


Fuyumi smiled wanly, “You’re a good friend.”  
  


Izuku blushed, waving away her compliment. “Shoto’s the good friend— _I’m_ lucky to have _him_.”  
  


“You’re lucky to have each other,” Natsuo corrected.  
  


Izuku smiled dreamily, a faraway look in his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, we are.”

* * *

Mei walked inside the jewelers, feeling sorely out of place.  
  


Expensive jewelry of every kind lined the cases, on display for the world to see. A crowd of older men and woman alike stood either in line or admiring the jewelry, searching for something nice to buy themselves or their loved ones. Mei, herself, was the latter.  
  


“What can I do for you, Miss?” A man standing behind the counter spoke up, acknowledging her arrival. He had an uppity tone of voice, befitting of a place as nice-looking as where she was.  
  


Hesitantly, she stepped forward, subconsciously moving to smooth down her dress. Hopefully, there were no grease stains hidden on her hands that she’d somehow missed.  
  


“I’m looking for a ring?” She phrased it as more of a question at first, clearing her throat soon after to repeat her statement more firmly. “An engagement ring.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the Todoroki family so much (minus endeavwhore, of course). Rei's genes won out every time
> 
> Sorry the Dabi and Endeavwhore scene was so underwhelming. I promise there's more drama to come.
> 
> I wish Inko Midoriya were my mom. She's amazing I love her
> 
> Here's a list of the still 8 Elite (because the elimination isn't actually for another chapter or two whoops):  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter and the next one will be out this Friday! Cya <3


	46. Will You Marry Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is very telling :>
> 
> Enjoy!

Hitoshi could barely manage to keep his nerves in check. Denki had asked after his health several times over the span of the day, wondering why he seemed to be so pale and tense. Hitoshi just said it was probably due to the cold. Denki seemed a little unsure, but didn’t push much further.  
  


Really, Hitoshi was just anxious about proposing. He didn’t have anything flashy prepared—just him and the ring. Maybe a flower if he could find one nearby. He fully intended to do it any moment now, but any time he’d finally steel his nerves, all it took was one look at Denki to break his resolve. He didn’t want to risk losing the blonde.  
  


“Seriously, Toshi, are you sure you’re not sick?” Denki asked for the umpteenth time that day. His hand was outstretched, reaching to place the back against the smooth skin of Hitoshi’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm, but . . .”  
  


Hitoshi grabbed Denki’s wrist as gently as he could, guiding the appendage away from his forehead. “Seriously, Denki, I’m okay.”  
  


Denki frowned, disbelief etched into each and every one of his features. Despite that, he relented for the time being.  
  


“Alright.” He sighed, leaning over to plant a soft kiss on Hitoshi’s cheekbone. “Eat a little more food, at least. You look really pale . . .”  
  


“I’m always pale,” Hitoshi contradicted, pushing away any food Denki tried to offer him. The blonde needed it much more than he did—Hitoshi was used to suffering from malnutrition, at least. Denki was raised as a Four. He probably had trouble adapting to this new environment, more so than Hitoshi. “I don’t need to take any of your food, Denks.”  
  


Denki’s eyes welled up with unshed tears. The boy buried his head in his hands, causing a feeling that felt suspiciously like guilt to flitter incessantly in Hitoshi’s chest.  
  


“I just want you to be okay, babe,” Denki cried, wiping stray tears from his eyes as if he could erase their existence. “What are we gonna do if you _do_ get sick?”  
  


Hitoshi sighed, “We’ll ask Aizawa and Nemuri for help.”  
  


“We can’t always depend on them, you know,” Denki reminded him, a bitter edge to his tone that Hitoshi hated to hear.  
  


Denki had always been the optimist, seeing each situation from the brightest angle. Since coming out here, his mood had dropped. Hitoshi noticed how he seemed to worry more about the negatives than before, focusing on them with tunnel vision.  
  


“And they only come once in a while, regardless. What are we going to do in the meantime?”  
  


Hitoshi reached out, touching Denki’s hand with his own. Denki reciprocated the intended action, linking their hands together in a soothing hold.  
  


“We’re gonna be okay, Denki,” Hitoshi said firmly. “As long as we have each other. And . . . I swear, I’m not sick, babe. Just . . . nervous.”  
  


Denki sniffled, shooting him a quizzical look. “Nervous?” He repeated, voice shaking.  
  


Hitoshi nodded, “There’s something I need to ask you, but it’s really important, and I just—I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”  
  


Denki wiped away the last of his tears with his free hand, using the other currently holding Hitoshi’s to squeeze the taller boy’s hand firmly. His gaze, fixed persistently on Hitoshi, was steady, and strong. It made Hitoshi feel strong, too.  
  


“I know what we have right now isn’t much, but I love you.” Hitoshi took a deep breath, fiddling with the ring hidden in his pocket. “ _So_ much. And even if we spend the rest of our lives as Eight’s, I think it’ll be okay because I have you.”  
  


This was when Hitoshi kneeled, looking Denki dead in the eyes as the blonde’s expression morphed from steady support to indescribable shock. He kept one hand held firmly in his, the other reach for the ring, grasping it firmly in his hold.  
  


When Hitoshi held out the ring, Denki really did start crying. He was sobbing, but his oh-so-beautiful smile was there, lighting up the whole alley they’d been crowded in together for the past few days.  
  


“I want things to be like this forever—you, and me.” Hitoshi said, holding Denki’s hand impossibly tighter as the love of his life continued to sob. “So, Denki, will you marry me?”

* * *

Hanta figured he really shouldn’t have been as surprised as he did to find his whole family waiting for him when he arrived at the dance.  
  


The first person he dove into a hug with was his older brother—Suzuki. His brother had long been married and started the beginnings of a successful life for himself. He’d moved into his own place with his girlfriend after eight months of dating, and proposed on four months after. Hanta had been the best man at his wedding, but he hated that they didn’t see each other as much, anymore.  
  


Despite that, he continued living with his parents, struggling to find someone compatible for him. The Selection had changed that, opening a lot of doors that he hadn’t even considered. It was with a heavy heart he left the comfort of his parents’ home, ready to begin a new, more independent, chapter of his life.  
  


That didn’t mean he didn’t miss them. Rather than trying to choose between who to hug, he grabbed them both by their shoulders and pulled them each tight against his chest. His mother, as frail and thin-armed as him, felt thin as paper in his embrace. His dad had definitely put on some weight since he’d seen him, but it was a healthy amount. So much had changed since he’d last seen them, but one look at their faces and he knew that they were still the same people he would always know and love. A few months apart wouldn’t change that.  
  


“How’ve you guys been?” Hanta asked conversationally, drifting off naturally towards the condiments table. He piled a good helping of food on a plate for his parents, offering it over to the couple. His brother was already digging in, very nearly drooling at all the options. “It’s been so long.”  
  


Hanta’s mother, Tsukiko, smiled wanly, grasping her son’s free hand in hers firmly. “Only a few months. We miss you, honey.”  
  


“I miss you guys, too,” Hanta replied earnestly.  
  


Out of the corner of his eye, Hanta spotted a flash of pink.  
  


“You guys should meet some of my friends!” He exclaimed suddenly. “Get a feel for what it’s like here, I guess.”  
  


“Of course,” his father agreed, nodding along.  
  


Hanta guided them expertly through the crowd, Suzuki holding on firmly to his plate of foreign delicacies. It wasn’t long until he found Mina amongst the crowd, surrounded by at least five or six little kids.  
  


“Mina! Mina!” They all shouted at once, crowding the taller girl. She laughed, trying her best to hug each of them with only her two arms. One girl, who looked slightly older than the rest, dove right into Mina’s outstretched arms.  
  


“Hey, Mina! We missed you!”  
  


“Aww, I missed you too, Hanako!” Mina cooed, pinching the girl’s cheeks fondly. It was at this moment, she glanced up and noticed Hanta approaching. “Hey, guys, this is Hanta! He’s a good friend of mine.”  
  


Soon, the kids were all over him, swarming him like a pack of animals. Hanta laughed, squatting down to their height and trying his best to answer their sudden onslaught of questions.  
  


After a bit, Mina shooed the kids off, telling them to go find her parents. She helped Hanta up, glancing curiously at his own family waiting patiently behind him.  
  


“Mina, these are my parents, and my older brother!” He introduced, gesturing vaguely behind him. Mina smiled, and waved enthusiastically. “Fam, this is Mina.”  
  


His mother was the first to step forwards, reaching out with a thin, bony hand. “Hello Mina, dear. Call me Tsukiko.”  
  


“Sure thing, Mrs. Tsukiko!” Mina chirped, moving on to greet Hanta’s dad and brother. “Hanta’s great. You two should be so proud!”  
  


“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me,” Hanta interjected teasingly.  
  


“Oh, hush,” Mina scoffed, waving away his lilting comment. “Oh, hey! There’s Eiji! _Eijiro!_ ”  
  


Hanta winced at her sheer volume. She could _really_ give Katsuki a run for his money.  
  


Eijiro came wandering over, expression reminding Hanta for a moment of a lost puppy. He smiled upon seeing them, sharp teeth glinting in the colorful lighting.  
  


“Hey, guys!” He greeted, taking no notice of Hanta’s parents standing off to the side. “What’s up?”  
  


Mina tugged on his arm, leaving Hanta in the dust and taking on the liberty of introducing his family in his stead. “Meet Hanta’s family! They’re so sweet!”  
  


“You hardly talked to th—”  
  


Mina cut him off, “Shush.” Suddenly, her grin was back, full force. “ _Anyways_ , this is Eijiro! He’s my best friend.”  
  


“You couldn’t have just let me say that?” Hanta whined.  
  


Everyone ignored him.  
  


“It’s nice to meet you, Eijiro!” His father greeted heartily.  
  


Suzuki greeted the redhead last. His mother merely offered a shy wave, and an even more hesitant smile. Eijiro didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, continuing on with his never-ending supply of enthusiasm.  
  


“So, why’re your parents here, man?” Eijiro asked through a mouthful of food. Suzuki had been all too happy to share, feeling a little bashful about how much food he’d managed to collect on his plate.  
  


“Gross, Eiji,” Mina scolded, wrinkling her nose. “Swallow, _then_ speak.”  
  


Eijiro made a big show of swallowing his food, turning to Hanta before he was even halfway finished. “So, your family?”  
  


Hanta rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m pretty sure everyone’s families are here. I’m sure if you look hard enough, you’ll see your parents somewhere.”  
  


Eijiro’s eyes lit up, flitting back and forth across the crowd in search. His eyes glistened, resting on one spot in particular.  
  


“Yeah, I see my mom,” he whispered. “Wanna meet her?”  
  


Hanta grinned, “Hell yeah.”  
  


Mina nodded, “I’m in.”  
  


Eijiro beamed, leading the way through the sweaty throng of guests towards his waiting mother.

* * *

Izuku cried upon sight of his mother.  
  


Ochaco seemed completely unsurprised. Shoto didn’t seem entirely shocked, either, but stepped forwards to comfort him nonetheless. Izuku leaned into the soothing aura Shoto projected, crying his eyes out with endless happy tears.  
  


His mom noticed him only moments later, bawling into Shoto’s shoulder. Izuku felt guilty for getting tear stains on the boy’s suit, but Shoto didn’t seem to mind. He wrapped Izuku up in a loose hug, used to this occurrence by now.  
  


“Izuku!”  
  


That was his mother’s voice. Izuku whipped around, a new round of tears cascading down his freckled cheeks. He ran towards her, enveloping the plump woman in a tight embrace.  
  


“Mom!” He sighed, hugging her even tighter. “I missed you so much.”  
  


“Deku,” a shy voice spoke up. Izuku looked to his mother’s side, viridian eyes lighting up upon seeing the little girl at her side.  
  


He crouched down to eye level, cool emerald meeting crimson. “Hey, Eri.”  
  


Eri ran forwards in an uncharacteristic display of affection—usually, she waited for Izuku to come to her—and wrapped as much of him as she could fit in her tiny arms in a hug. Izuku returned the embrace, wrapping Eri’s thin frame up in his arms, easily lifting the girl. Eri seemed perfectly content there, leaning comfortably against his chest.  
  


“How’re you doing, Eri?” He spoke in soft tones, hoping not to startle her.  
  


She hummed, burying her head even further into his chest. He could feel the vibrations rumbling through his torso as she spoke.  
  


“I missed you.”  
  


Izuku sighed, holding her closer with a small smile. “I missed you, too, Eri.”  
  


Eri had been near the forefront of his mind since coming here. Izuku loved his mother, and knew the green-haired woman would do a fine job of taking care of Eri, but Izuku couldn’t help but worry. He was immensely glad to see she was doing okay.  
  


“There are a lot of people,” Eri muttered quietly, clinging to Izuku’s side desperately.  
  


Izuku frowned, “Yeah. You won’t have to stay long, if you don’t want to.”  
  


Eri peered up at him frightfully. “If I leave will you stay?”  
  


Izuku winced, feeling guilt claw its way up his throat. “Yeah, I’ll be staying. I’m really hoping to get a dance with the Prince tonight.”  
  


Eri frowned, twisting her hands together nervously. “Then I’ll stay until you leave,” she decided. Izuku felt bad. “I wanna be with you, Deku.”  
  


“Alright,” Izuku agreed, offering the little girl a light smile. “But if you feel uncomfortable, remember that you have every right to leave. I’ll come find you as soon as I can.”  
  


Eri shifted nervously, “Promise?”  
  


Izuku smiled softly, tucking a loose strand of white hair behind her ear. “Promise.”

* * *

“I have to admit,” Kendo began, wondering leisurely in between the crowd. “I’ve always kind of wondered what your family was like.”  
  


Neito had long since figured out the Elite’s family members would be coming for Valentine’s Day. It was a traditional moment of the Selection, and Kendo had no use denying him when he asked her about it. He wouldn’t have believed her, regardless.  
  


“My mother is rather . . . submissive,” Neito replied. “My father, however, is quite a bit like me.”  
  


“Yikes,” Kendo replied jokingly, earning her a good-natured jab to the ribs. “Did I say that out loud?”  
  


Neito shot her a blank look.  
  


“You’re no fun,” she teased. “Do you have any siblings?”  
  


“Two,” he offered. “My sister’s an angel. A cancer survivor, as well.”  
  


Kendo frowned, patting Neito’s shoulder consolingly. “I’m sorry.”  
  


Neito scoffed, “I’m not the one you should be saying that to.” His posture was tense, eyes intensely focused forwards. “Just don’t bring it up with her around. She’s still sensitive.”  
  


Kendo nodded, taking the information in. “And your other sibling?”  
  


“My brother—Tenjin,” Neito explained. “He’s thirteen, the youngest. My sister—her name’s Jona—she’s sixteen.”  
  


“When was she diagnosed with—well, you know?” Kendo asked.  
  


“I was ten at the time, and she was only seven. Luckily, we caught the case early, and she’s doing alright now,” Neito said, speaking surprisingly fondly. Kendo wasn’t used to hearing him speak so good-naturedly about someone. “Tenjin was still just a little four-year-old. He doesn’t even remember her diagnosis—I do. It’s rather hard to forget.”  
  


“I’d bet,” Kendo said, tone solemn. “I’m glad she’s okay.”  
  


Neito smiled, soft and serene. It was a look Kendo wasn’t used to seeing from him.  
  


“I as well.”  
  


A comfortable silence overfell the pair. Upbeat music blared all around them, rhythm feeling mildly inappropriate for the line of conversation they’d just had.  
  


The silence was broken a few songs later by Neito, pointing across the crowd to a group of people Kendo couldn’t discern from everyone else. “There they are. Would you like to meet them?”  
  


“Your folks?” Kendo asked, peering in the direction he was pointing. And—there, a flash of a man with stiff blonde hair. She thought she could see a young girl with silver eyes matching in tones to Neito’s beside the man. “Yeah, I’d love to meet them.”  
  


Neito’s family noticed their slow trek towards them, taking the initiative to meet them halfway. Kendo appreciated the effort.  
  


“Neito,” a man who Kendo could only assume to be Neito’s father greeted his son in a clipped tone. Neito’s face noticeably hardened at the greeting. “It’s good to see you.”  
  


“Sure,” he replied, in an equally cold tone.  
  


Ignoring his parents, Neito went in to hug his siblings. His brother looked like a near carbon copy of Neito, if only he were thirteen. Kendo could easily imagine him looking just like that at his age.  
  


Jona, however, seemed to take more after their mother. She had beautifully flowing auburn hair, a shade not too dissimilar from Kendo’s own. She had Neito’s eyes though—a shimmering silver color that you could pick out from anywhere in the room. Kendo couldn’t help but think of the stars when she saw the girls glistening irises.  
  


“It’s good to see you both,” Neito said earnestly, a certain warmth in his tones that Kendo hadn’t heard before. “This is my friend, Kendo.”  
  


Kendo waved, smiling at the pair. Tenjin waved shyly back, hiding his face in his brother’s side. Jona went right in for the hug, enveloping Kendo in a warm, and completely welcome, embrace.  
  


Finally, Neito’s mother spoke up.  
  


“It’s good to see you making friends, Neito.”  
  


Her voice was a wispy thing, quiet and barely there. She looked like a strong breeze could blow her over. Despite her thin frame and notable timidity, she was remarkably beautiful.  
  


“I suppose,” Neito replied curtly, shrugging.  
  


“Kendo, weren’t you in the Selection, as well?” Neito’s father rumbled, inspecting her dispassionately. Kendo nodded stiffly. “Why is it you are still here, then?”  
  


“The Prince offered me a job, actually,” she explained, feeling more than a little awkward. Neito’s father was . . . intimidating, to say the least. “I’m one of his royal advisor’s.”  
  


“I’m sure you’re very capable, then.” Oddly enough, it was worded like a compliment, but came out sounding like a critique. Kendo was at a loss as to how to respond.  
  


“The Prince wouldn’t have offered her the job if she wasn’t the right fit,” Neito replied hotly. “We all assumed she was a front runner at the start—I’m sure you would’ve made a lovely queen, Kendo.”  
  


Kendo smiled, earnest this time. Despite Neito saying his father was a lot like him, Kendo had to say—she disagreed. Neito was a little rough around the edges, and highly competitive, but Kendo didn’t think he was a bad person in the slightest. She could never find herself being genuinely frightened of him, like she was of his father.  
  


“Glad to hear you think so highly of me.” And she was. Neito didn’t often dole out compliments. If he said something good about you, Kendo knew he was being earnest.  
  


Neito waved her away. “Just because you would make a good queen doesn’t mean I wouldn’t make an even better king.”  
  


_And_ there he is. Kendo couldn’t hide her laugh, barely being able to conceal it behind her hand. Neito smirked, clearly trying to suppress laughter of his own.  
  


“So,” Tenjin interrupted, bouncing nervously from foot to foot. The boy hardly seemed to take notice of the stiff interaction that had taken place between his brother and father. “Where’s the food?”  
  


This time, Kendo didn’t even bother concealing her soft peals of laughter.

* * *

Mei found it odd how nervous she was. It was just a proposal, right? She and Tenya were already in a steady and increasingly serious relationship, although she knew it was slightly out of the norm for a woman to propose to a man. Despite that, Mei knew what she wanted, and she wasn’t afraid to go get it.  
  


Or was she?  
  


Why else was she holding off so long? Valentine’s Day was nearing a close, and if she waited any longer, Mei worried she’d miss her window of opportunity. Proposing on Valentine’s Day was super cliché, but Tenya seemed like the kind of guy who would like a good cliché every now and then.  
  


So, Mei really needed to buck up and do it. She could manage to nearly blow up her hands at _least_ a solid nine times a week, but she couldn’t get on one knee and ask Tenya to marry her? What kind of fucked up logic was that?  
  


_It’s now or never_ , she mentally reminded herself.  
  


Mei took a deep breath.  
  


“Tenya, let’s talk for a minute.” She didn’t phrase it as a request, more of a suggestion. Tenya came over to her side nonetheless, giving her that cute look he makes whenever he’s confused.  
  


God, Mei was so whipped for this man.  
  


“What is it, Mei?” Mei had long since gotten used to his overly formal tone of voice. She learned quickly that he spoke that way with everyone, whether they were a new acquaintance or someone he’d known for years. “Is everything alright?”  
  


“Yeah, absolutely,” she affirmed. “I just gotta ask you something. Sit, sit.”  
  


Tenya obeyed, still giving her that adorable little look of his. Mei felt her nerves spike— _what if he says no_ —and firmly pushed them back down. There was no room for nerves right now.  
  


“I love you _so_ much, Tenya. I think you know that—I’m not exactly shy about my feelings.” That earned a smile and small chuckle. Mei was the polar opposite of _subtle_. “But, well, I’ve been thinking that I’ve never felt this strongly about something before—even my babies. And you _know_ how much I love my babies.”  
  


“How could I not?”  
  


Mei snorted, “I know, I talk about them _all_ the time. But, y’know, you mean a lot more to me than my inventions. I’ve always just felt more comfortable surrounded by machinery and people, y’know? But, I guess what I’m trying to say is that somehow, some way, you found a way to bypass all that and slip your way right into my heart. And I love you for that.”  
  


This was when she pulled out the ring, slowly kneeling down, holding it out for him to see. She made direct eye contact, trying to convey through her expression just how much Tenya _means_ to her.  
  


“I love you—more than words could express. And I know I’m being cliché, which is totally out of character, but you’re absolutely worth it,” Mei continued, watching with a soft smile as Tenya began to cry, a warm smile adorning his features. “I guess—I guess what I’m _really_ trying to say is—will you marry me?”  
  


Tenya surged forwards then, enveloping her in an all-encompassing hug. Mei leaned into his chest, relishing the warmth his body emanated. Despite her best efforts not to cry, a couple tears slipped out, and soon they were both lying in each other’s arms, bawling their eyes out.  
  


“You don’t even have to ask,” Tenya said, wiping away a couple stray tears. He reached into his pocket, fiddling with it for a moment before procuring whatever item he’d been looking for. Mei stared at it in shock— _he’d_ bought _her_ a ring. “ _Of course_ I’m saying yes.”  
  


They exchanged rings, the overflow of tears starting all over again after coming to the realization that they were now _fiancé’s.  
  
_

For the first time since before his brother’s death, Tenya could honestly say he felt wholly and truly happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't care that Monoma turned in kamishin and put bleach in Momo's shampoo, he is a good brother and you can't change my mind
> 
> TWO proposals in one chapter? Yes, because i have no self control. Notice that Kaminari never gave Shinsou and answer...
> 
> Eri is bAbY (someone on insta had the audacity to say the overhaul arc was the worst one because she was a part of it i cant TwT)
> 
> I made up everyone's families except for Izuku's and Todoroki's btw
> 
> Here's the list of the Elite plus their caste (i have no clue when this elimination is coming but it's coming s o o n):  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> Next chapter is going to be a continuation of the Valentine's Dance. My goal is to write out Katsuki meeting everyone's families, and hopefully the reunion between Inko and Mitsuki.
> 
> That chapter will be out on Tuesday--'til then! ^^


	47. Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry (for my missing two updates! I caught s o m e t h i n g (although I still have no clue what) and looking at any form of technology killed my head. I already had to deal with schoolwork, and I decided that took priority over writing, so I just didn't have the opportunity to update the story last week. I'm feeling better now, just a minor cough, so the update schedule SHOULD go back to normal now.
> 
> On another note, I'm potentially considering shifting the update schedule to only once a week because high school is a lot crazier than I originally anticipated. Hopefully it doesn't come to that, though.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy the chapter!

Katsuki makes his first appearance of the night fashionably late. Akira had been the one to suggest it, making sure to take extra-long in getting him ready so he wasn’t just sitting and waiting.  
  


By the time he’d arrived, the Elite had already located their families and were playing catch-up. Good—it meant Katsuki didn’t have to do any unnecessary searching.  
  


He still had to figure out who to eliminate by the end of the night, although he was pointedly trying _not_ to think about it. The best course of action, for now, was to get himself introduced with the Selected’s families, and proceed from there.  
  


Luckily, Eijiro caught him one step ahead. The redhead was upon him moments after he’d arrived, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug that was terribly informal, yet utterly amazing.  
  


“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Eijiro whispered, still holding Katsuki tight against his chest. He pulled away then, his smile reaching from ear-to-ear. “You should meet my mom!”  
  


Katsuki was fighting hard to will away his rising blush. He’d only been there five minutes, at most, and he was _already_ getting flustered. What had happened to the cold, emotionless Katsuki who only ever expressed anger? He’d seemingly disappeared as soon as the Selected arrived.  
  


“Sure, shitty hair,” he agreed, trying to sound reluctant. Katsuki was certain Eijiro saw right through him.  
  


Eijiro grabbed his hand—Katsuki was _not_ blushing, it was just a trick of the light—and led him through the shimmying crowd. It took no time at all for them to find her, although Eijiro kept a tight hold of his hand even after they’d stopped walking.  
  


“Mom!” Eijiro called, although by the faint smile adorning the woman’s face, she’d already spotted them. “This is Katsuki. Katsuki, this is my mom, Akito!”  
  


The frail woman held out her hand, smile never dropping for a moment. “It’s so very nice to meet you, Your Highness. Eijiro’s been in love with you since he even knew what love was.”  
  


Katsuki seriously hated how much he was blushing tonight. Luckily, Eijiro seemed just as flustered, if not more.  
  


“ _Mom_ ,” he whined, pouting slightly. “Don’t tell him _that_.”  
  


Akito smiled thinly, patting her son gently on the shoulder. “It’s still a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.”  
  


Katsuki took her outstretched hand, giving it a firm shake. He felt uncomfortable with all the protruding bones and hard lines, and was suddenly reminded that this woman was a _Seven_.  
  


“Pleasure’s all mine,” Katsuki grumbled, retracting his hand as soon as he could. Katsuki had never been a big stickler for pleasantries.  
  


“I hope my son hasn’t caused you any trouble?” There was a glint in her eyes, one Katsuki couldn’t decipher.  
  


“He’s caused plenty,” Katsuki joked, sending Eijiro a _look_. The redhead only pouted harder, if that were even possible. “Joking aside—he’s not _too_ bad, I guess.”  
  


Eijiro leaned over towards his mother, stage whispering, “That’s a huge compliment, coming from him.”  
  


Akito giggled, “I’m sure, Eijiro. I’ve never had anything bad to say about you.”  
  


“Oh, I have plenty,” Katsuki interjected, back to teasing.  
  


Eijiro whined, playfully elbowing Katsuki in the ribs.  
  


“You see the way he treats me?” Katsuki joked, elbowing the redhead back. “Fucking disgraceful.”  
  


If Akito was surprised by Katsuki’s casual use of such foul language, she didn’t show it. It didn’t take long for him to open up more towards the woman—she emanated this calming aura that made Katsuki feel safe talking to her. It was nearly the same way he felt whenever he was alone with Eijiro.  
  


Akito had begun sharing stories from Eijiro’s childhood, to which the redhead had become increasingly embarrassed. Katsuki, however, couldn’t stop grinning.  
  


“One time—”  
  


“Hey, Kacchan!”  
  


Eijiro jumped right at Izuku, pulling him into a tight bear-hug.  
  


“Midoriya, you’re my savior,” he muttered, expression completely serious. Katsuki couldn’t help but laugh.  
  


Izuku blushed, looking back and forth between Eijiro—who still had him wrapped up in a hug—Katsuki, who hadn’t stopped laughing, and Akito, who looked over the scene with a fond look shimmering in her eyes.  
  


“I think we’ve taken up enough of your time, Your Highness,” Akito spoke up dismissively. Eijiro seemed to finally come to his senses, backing off of Izuku a bit. “Go talk with this boy, here—I’m sure Eijiro would love to introduce me to some of his friends, yes?”  
  


Eijiro’s eyes lit up, already searching the room for where he might be able to find Hanta and Mina. Clearly, he managed to find _someone_ , because his eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning. He grabbed his mom’s hand, not quite dragging her but it was a close thing.  
  


“Come on, mom! Come meet Mina!”  
  


“You mean the girl with the pink hair?” His mom questions, following along with a soft smile. “I think I’ve seen her around town before.”  
  


And just like that, they were gone. Katsuki found himself alone with Izuku, the shy boy smiling softly at him.  
  


“Sorry for interrupting,” he apologized unnecessarily. “I just, um, saw you and got kind of—well . . . excited. Sorry.”  
  


“Stop apologizing,” Katsuki scolded, wincing at how hard his tone came out.  
  


Izuku’s face fell, “So—I mean, um.” He paused, floundering for something to say. “Do you want to meet my family? Ochaco’s is over there, too.”  
  


Katsuki shrugs, gesturing for Izuku to lead the way. He does, leading them straight to the refreshments. Ochaco had a plate piled high with sweets, pointing out things to what Katsuki assumed was her parents, recommending the foods she preferred—or, more like, _all of them_.  
  


Nearby the trio was a plump woman with green hair and verdant eyes—no doubt Izuku’s mother. Hiding behind the woman’s long skirt was a small girl—Katsuki guessed her to be about eight—with long, white hair and eyes an even bolder shade of red than his own.  
  


Katsuki waited for Izuku to introduce him, rather than announcing his presence upfront. Izuku hardly even paused, bounding right up to his mom and directing her attentions towards Katsuki. Ochaco and her parents caught on quickly, turning towards him. Ochaco waved, trying her best to smile through a mouthful of cake. Katsuki tried not to laugh—emphasis on _tried_.  
  


“Mom, Eri, this is Ka—I mean, er, Prince Bakugou!” Ochaco snorted at her friend’s near slip-up. “Kac— _Prince Bakugou_ —” Katsuki found himself joining in on Ochaco’s laughter, “—this is my mom, Inko, and my, uh . . . that’s Eri.”  
  


The little hesitantly waved from behind Inko’s back, slinking off towards Izuku’s side. Izuku, noticing this, took no time at all in picking the girl up and cradling her close to his chest.  
  


Ochaco swallowed the bite of food she was eating, temporarily setting down her plate so she could gesture between her parents. “These are my parents—this is my mom.”  
  


The woman—who looked simply like an older version of Ochaco—waved, smiling softly. “Call me Haruki, dear.”  
  


Ochaco’s dad, who she hadn’t yet introduced, did so for her. “And I’m Ochaco’s father, Yuuto.”  
  


Katsuki grunted in acknowledgement, reaching a hand out to Haruki and waiting for her to take it. She did so, that soft smile of hers never fading. Her hands were rough, and calloused. Although, Katsuki expected as much. Ochaco did come from a family of Sevens, after all.  
  


He took turns shaking hands with everyone there, even going to reach out a hesitant hand to Eri, which she eventually took, with slight prodding from Izuku. The girl clung to him like a newborn child to their mother. Katsuki hated how adorable he thought that was.  
  


“I guess I’m not the only one who’s looks like a damn carbon copy of my m0m.” Katsuki’s tongue burned when he called her ‘ _mom_ ’—when had their relationship become so fucked up that he didn’t feel comfortable calling her anything other ‘ _old hag_ ’.  
  


Ochaco chuckled. Izuku smiled sheepishly, watching amusedly as Eri looked back and forth between Inko, Izuku, Ochaco and Haruki with an odd sort of wonderment written all over her face.  
  


“Speaking of your mother,” Inko interjected smoothly, smiling thinly. “Where is she?”  
  


Izuku’s eyes lit up, and he very nearly started _bouncing_. Katsuki would ultimately deny ever thinking that it was absolutely adorable.  
  


“I see her! She’s dancing with the King—let’s go say hey! I bet she’d love to see you!” Izuku gasps, very nearly reaching out before realizing he had a _child_ in his arms.  
  


Inko blushed, smiling sheepishly. “Oh, no, I’m sure she’s forgotten all about me . . .”  
  


Izuku shook his head fiercely. “She hasn’t! Trust me.”  
  


“Well . . . alright,” Inko conceded.  
  


Katsuki looked back and forth between the mother and son duo in confusion. He looked towards Ochaco—she usually knew what was going on. To his dismay, she didn’t look like she had a clue what the hell was going on either.  
  


“What the fuck?” Katsuki questioned, oh-so-eloquently.  
  


Inko sighed, nostalgia flashing in her viridian eyes. “Oh, Mitsuki and I used to be the closest of friends,” she admits hesitantly. “But since she became Queen, we’ve been out of touch. It’ll be nice for us to reconnect.”  
  


“Might wanna tread carefully,” Katsuki warned with a scowl. “Old hag’s always in a bad fucking mood these days.”  
  


Inko frowned, “Are you two not that close?”  
  


Katsuki huffed a laugh. It was a sad, dry thing that only made Inko’s frown deepen further.  
  


“No,” Katsuki replied, his smile lacking humor. “We’re not. But I can show you where she’s at—after that I gotta go talk to some other families. ‘m supposed to make some damn elimination tonight, according to the old man. Whatever.”  
  


Izuku blanched, “An elimination? Tonight?”  
  


“Tch. Don’t panic, Deku,” Katsuki did his best to try and soothe the greenette. “I already know who it’s gonna be. Follow me.”  
  


Inko did, shooting her son a questioning glance. Izuku shrugged, walking right alongside Katsuki, Eri still held steadfastly in his arms.  
  


His mom spotted them halfway there—she’d always had a sharp eye. Katsuki could tell right away that what Inko had said before hadn’t been a bluff—his mom _never_ looked that happy. It was almost weird for him to see her smiling so brightly.  
  


“Inko!” She called out, voice laced a sickening sweet tone. It made Katsuki sick. “We have so much to catch up on!”  
  


Katsuki took that as his cue to leave, slinking off into the crowd before the old hag decided to yell at him over nothing again.  
  


He made his way towards Hanta, leaving the pair alone to catch up.

* * *

Hanta was immensely glad that his parents took such a quick liking to his friends. Eijiro and Mina were socialites—they got along with everyone. Well, nearly everyone. Hanta tried not to look at Neito when that thought came to mind.  
  


He wished they could all meet Denki—he truly thinks they’d love him. Hanta had to admit, out of all the friends he’d made at the palace, Denki had been the closest to him. It made Hanta feel all the worse that he hadn’t visited him, yet.  
  


Eijiro had gone multiple times, visiting nearly every week. He’d talked Mina into going, and since she’s been hell-bent on visiting as often as possible. They’d both already tried to talk to him about going to visit, but Hanta had soundly refused. He really didn’t think he was quite ready to see the blonde just yet. He wasn’t sure when he _would_ be ready.  
  


As if reading his mind, Suzuki decided to pick up the topic. “Hey, that couple who got caned—did you know them?”  
  


Hanta tried not to wince, he really did, but ultimately failed. His family seemingly took no notice of his immediate discomfort, instead boring into him with their curious gazes.  
  


“Yeah, I knew them,” he muttered, gaze directed firmly on his feet.  
  


“It’s so horrible, what they did to those boys,” his mother piped up. “I can’t believe they forced you all to watch.”  
  


Hanta frowned, thinking back to that day. His memories were still fuzzy, with some speckled memories dotted in here and there. Hound dog had called what he’d been experiencing ‘ _dissociation_ ’. After having it explained to him, Hanta figured it seemed pretty damn close to what he’d gone through at the time.  
  


“Honestly, I don’t remember most of it,” he confided. “They told me the next day what happened.”  
  


Suzuki shot him a quizzical look, “Why don’t you remember?”  
  


“It’s complicated,” he grumbled, averting his eyes once again.  
  


“I think their punishment befit the crime,” Hanta’s dad spoke firmly, confident in his beliefs. Hanta wished he had that kind of confidence. “They knew what the penalty was for their crimes. Really, they should’ve received harsher, shouldn’t they?”  
  


The group went dead silent. Of course, there was still the chatter of hundreds of people occupying the space, not to mention loud music blaring across the room. But, to Hanta, that silence amongst them felt deafening, in a different way than the music.  
  


“I disagree,” Hanta muttered. Somehow, his father managed to pick up on this.  
  


“Is that so?”  
  


“Yeah,” Hanta said, a little more confidence seeping into his tone. “You’re wrong. Denki and Shinso are both amazing people who didn’t deserve any of the shit they were put through, so stop making judgements as if you _know them_.”  
  


He was breathing heavily, anger filling every line of his face or movement of his body. This was _Denki_. He didn’t deserve to be publicly caned, nor sentenced to life as an Eight.  
  


His father looked as though he wanted to keep going, but was shut up by the sudden arrival of Katsuki. Hanta had never been more relieved to see the blonde.  
  


“Blasty, good to see ya.” His parents looked shocked at such an informal greeting, but Hanta couldn’t care less. He was pissed as hell, and didn’t need to focus on anything else that might upset him in the slightest. “Come to meet my folks?”  
  


“Yeah, guess so,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. If Hanta didn’t know any better, he would’ve sworn up and down that Katsuki was _pouting_. “This them?”  
  


Hanta nodded, wearily glancing at his parents and sibling. His mother seemed to look the most understanding—then again, a mother always knew, right? His dad still seemed kind of angry, which Hanta didn’t feel bad about in the slightest. Suzuki mostly just looked confused, an expression Hanta wasn’t unused to seeing on him.  
  


“Well, this is my mom, Tsukiko.” She waved, smiling gently. Hanta pointed towards Suzuki next, “My brother, Suzuki.” An over-excited wave and smile ensued. “And that’s my dad—his name’s Takibi.”  
  


“Nice to meetcha,” Takibi opened with, although his dark expression didn’t quite match the meaning of his words.  
  


“Sure,” Katsuki agreed half-heartedly.  
  


“How are things between you and Hanta?” Suzuki asked, winking suggestively.  
  


Katsuki’s nose scrunched up, “He looks like a fucking noodle.”  
  


“Hey!” Hanta protested, trying to fight off a smile. “I do not!”  
  


“You’re the one who said you need to fucking work out or whatever,” Katsuki snapped back. “Don’t come fucking whining to me when I say you look a fucking limp fish.”  
  


“A _limp fish_?” Hanta looked down at his arms and legs. “Do I really?”  
  


Katsuki face-palmed, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “Jesus fucking Christ”.  
  


Suzuki interjected then, looking as confused as always. “So . . . not so good, then?”  
  


Katsuki shot his brother the stink eye, which, really, Hanta couldn’t blame him for. Suzuki could annoy even the most patient person on a _good_ day. His wife was a literal godsend for putting up with him all of the time. Hanta really wasn’t sure how she managed.  
  


“Things are fine,” Katsuki grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets.  
  


Hanta grinned, “In Bakugou speak, that was practically a declaration of love!” Hanta swooned dramatically, “You must really like me, huh?”  
  


“Debatable,” Katsuki griped, sneering at Hanta. Hanta realized, with a grin, that Katsuki’s sneer seemed to hold a lot less heat than it used to. “Listen, I gotta meet a bunch of other families, so I’ll be off. It was . . . not horrible, talking to you. Bye.”  
  


Takibi watched him go, still seeming tense about _something_ that Katsuki couldn’t decipher. Suzuki still looked incredibly confused, but when hadn’t he been at least a little mixed up about everything going on around him?  
  


Tsukiko stopped him before he left, grabbing his wrist in a gentle but firm grip. She leaned over towards him, smiling dangerously.  
  


“You treat my son right, alright?”  
  


Katsuki gulped, feeling suddenly and unexplainably nervous. “Yes—y-yes ma’am.”  
  


She released his wrist, back to smiling sweetly at him. Although, her eyes still glinted maliciously. “Have a good evening, Your Highness.”

* * *

Shoto had made it a point to avoid his father at all costs that night.  
  


He’d done a fine job so far, unintentionally running into both Dabi and Keigo, the latter dancing like a maniac next to his unimpressed partner. Shoto couldn’t contain his own snort, drawing the attention of the couple.  
  


“Hey, Sho,” Dabi greeted in a sly tone. It was a nickname he’d recently taken to calling him, after it’d accidentally slipped out on accident. Shoto had been quick to assure him he didn’t mind it at all—in fact, he really enjoyed being referred to by a nickname. “Seen the fam around?”  
  


“What would you say to us telling Natsuo and Fuyumi about you?”  
  


Shoto felt kind of bad springing this on Dabi so suddenly, especially after seeing the careful apprehension etched into his features.  
  


“I don’t know,” he replied carefully, stopping dancing altogether. It didn’t make much of a difference—what he’d been doing before could hardly be called dancing. “I’ve seen my own _grave_ , Sho. You might’ve been pretty accepting about all of this, but how are they going to feel about their supposedly dead brother suddenly showing back up in their lives?”  
  


Shoto furrowed his brows, “Why would they think you’re dead?”  
  


Dabi looked about as confused as Shoto felt. As far as the latter could remember, both his mother and father had told him Touya had run away when he was in his teens—not too long after Shoto received his scar. He’d been hurt in a house fire, where he most likely got all those burns, and had disappeared. No one had seen him since—until _now_ , at least.  
  


Dabi scoffed, though, as if Shoto had asked a stupid question. Had he?  
  


“I was lucky to make it out of that fire alive,” he explained hotly. “I figured that was my chance—so I let you all think I was dead. That I just burned in that damned house ‘til there was nothing left to recognize of me. It’s pretty easy to disappear without a trace when everyone’s so sure you’re dead.”  
  


Shoto was at a loss for words. Dabi was patient—he didn’t push him for a response. If anyone was confused, it was apparently Keigo, who didn’t bother hiding his befuddlement.  
  


“Father . . .”  
  


He paused. Dabi waited.  
  


“Father told me you ran away, though,” he choked out. “If you—you were _dead_ . . . but, why . . .”  
  


Dabi’s expression was pinched, as though he were in pain. Considering how hard Shoto’s head was pounding from trying to put the pieces together, he guessed his own expression didn’t look too far off.  
  


“You were only four or five when To—” Keigo quickly glanced around, seemingly remembering where he was, before continuing, “when _Dabi_ ran away, right?” Shoto nodded. “Well, maybe your douchebag sperm donor was trying to keep the truth from distracting you?”  
  


“It’s possible,” Dabi chimed in, before Shoto had a chance to put in his own two cents. “Maybe he didn’t want to own up to his mistakes. He _was_ the one who started the house fire that nearly killed me.”  
  


Shoto huffed, “Who fucking knows. All that matters is that you’re alive, right? Don’t Fuyumi and Natsuo deserve to know?”  
  


“We’ll see,” Dabi relented.  
  


“Just bring it up and see how they react. If they respond well, then we can worry about reintroducing Tou—Dabi and them.” Keigo advised, blushing at his near slip-up.  
  


Shoto nodded, “Good idea. I’ll go find them.”  
  


Panic flared briefly in Dabi’s electric blue irises. “You’re not telling them _now_ , are you?”  
  


“Why not?” Shoto asked drily.  
  


Dabi sighed, looking absolutely done with his shit. Shoto felt as though he were missing out on something, but couldn’t figure out what.  
  


“It is _way_ too crowded for you to be openly talking about that, right now,” Dabi reminded him, shooting Shoto a blank look. Shoto’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ of understanding. “At least wait until after the party. Now go—I’d like another hour or so of making fun of Keigo’s dancing before we ditch.”  
  


Keigo pouted, “What’s there to make fun of?”  
  


Dabi shot his boyfriend a woefully exasperated look. “ _Everything_.”  
  


Shoto took that as his cue to leave, weaving seamlessly through the crowds, searching for shocks of red and white hair. He spotted Fuyumi first, Natsuo not far behind her.  
  


Along the way, he bumped into someone. When he looked down, an apology on the tip of his tongue, he was met with a shock of green and a nervous smile.  
  


“Sorry, Shoto,” Izuku muttered, still pressed a little too close for comfort due to the unrelenting proximity of the crowd. Shoto could feel blood pooling in his cheeks like fire, spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. “I’d introduce you to my mom, but she’s . . . preoccupied.”  
  


Shoto followed Izuku’s line of sight, noticing the Queen chatting away merrily with a plump woman with a shock of green, only a shade or so darker than Izuku’s own.  
  


“She seems to be getting along nicely with the Queen,” Shoto commented earnestly. “You mentioned they were friends once, yes?”  
  


Izuku flushed, nodding, “Yeah! Although it was a little bit ago. I’m, um, surprised you remembered.”  
  


Shoto nodded mutely, trying hard not to think about how close Izuku was standing next to him. They were pressed nearly chest-to-chest, and Izuku looked incredibly remorseful. Shoto, however, didn’t necessarily share the same sentiment.  
  


“You should meet Eri!” Izuku shouted, gesturing towards where Ochaco was crouched next to a little girl with a shock of white hair, not too different from half of Shoto’s own.  
  


“Is that Ochaco’s sister?”  
  


Izuku shook his head, “She’s, well—remember that little girl I talk about on the Report? The Eight?” Shoto vaguely remembered, and so he nodded. “Well, this is her! She’s a sweetheart—come on!”  
  


Fuyumi and Natsuo temporarily forgotten, Shoto followed after someone equally as important—Izuku.  
  


Despite his infuriating social anxiety and often difficulty interacting with kids—or people in general—Shoto and Eri caught on like a house on fire. The small girl even allowed Shoto to pick her up, something that seemed to greatly upset Ochaco. After a whispered explanation from Izuku that she’d been trying to do just that for the past fifteen minutes, to no avail, it seemed to make a lot more sense.  
  


“You have suck pretty eyes, Mr. Toro—” She huffed, seemingly confused, “Mr. Tododori? Mr. Todo—todo—”  
  


Shoto decidedly stopped her while she was ahead.  
  


“You can just call me Shoto, Eri,” he offered, which seemed to calm the girl down, some.  
  


“Okay, Mr. Shoto!”  
  


With Eri still cradled carefully in his arms, Shoto was introduced to both Haruki and Yuuto Uraraka. They were a kind, and warm couple who seemed to care greatly for their daughter. Shoto could tell Ochaco took after her mother, a lot, as far as appearances went. Her fierceness seemed to come directly from her father, however—Shoto recognized that steely determination glittering dangerously in his eyes all too easily.  
  


“You seem like a fine young man, Todoroki,” Yuuto complimented with a firm smile, shaking Shoto’s proffered hand. “Ochaco had mentioned both you boys often—and a man named Tenya, but he’s not here anymore, if I remember correctly?”  
  


Izuku piped up just then, frowning sympathetically. “His brother passed away, and so he left to be with his family, right now.”  
  


Haruki nodded solemnly, holding her daughter’s hand tightly in her own. “That must’ve been so hard on him, poor darling. You all still write him?”  
  


Shoto felt bad admitting that he hadn’t, so instead he stayed silent. He’d been meaning to write Tenya, but he felt as though his letters might seem unwanted. They’d never been close to begin with, and there had to have been a reason that Tenya specifically invited both Ochaco and Izuku to attend his brother’s funeral, and not Shoto. He felt bad crashing, but Tenya had seemed perfectly understanding at the time.  
  


Even now, after all that, Tenya pointedly addressed only Izuku and Ochaco in his letters to the palace. Perhaps it was because those two always made the effort to write to him as well, or maybe Tenya just didn’t care to hear from him. Shoto wasn’t entirely sure how his self-esteem would fare if he mustered up the courage to ask after Tenya, only to have his letter ignored. Or, worse yet, Tenya write back only to say he didn’t really care to hear from Shoto at all.  
  


“Shoto?”  
  


Shoto was brought back to the present by the sound of Izuku’s voice whispering his name. He looked to the boy questioningly, wondering what was amiss.  
  


“You were spacing,” he replied, easily reading Shoto’s expression. “Something wrong?”  
  


Without really thinking about it, Shoto reached out to grab Izuku’s hand and squeeze it reassuringly.  
  


“It’s nothing. I was just thinking.”  
  


Izuku seemed skeptical, but didn’t press.  
  


Shoto slipped away not too long after, Eri already having asked to be put down long before then, and instead taking to clinging to Izuku’s legs. Izuku seemed perfectly content with her doing this, as though it were normal. Considering Eri’s clear apprehension towards strangers—or anyone who wasn’t _Izuku_ , really—Shoto figured it was.  
  


It didn’t take him long at all to spot his siblings. He was lucky enough to notice their father seemed to be pointedly avoiding the pair, probably in search of Shoto himself. Shoto very nearly ran into Enji, but managed to sneak past the man by ducking his head down and moving through a particularly crowded area.  
  


Natsuo, surprisingly, noticed Shoto first. He hurriedly tapped Fuyumi’s shoulder, pointing in Shoto’s direction while simultaneously waving at him. Shoto couldn’t stop the fond smile from forming, moving towards his siblings at a much too glacial pace for his preferences.  
  


The crowd seemed to get the hint that he had a place he wanted to be, even going as far as pointedly moving out of his way before he had the chance to push them aside without so much as an apology. Shoto felt a twinge of guilt every time.  
  


“Hey,” he greeted quietly.  
  


Somehow, Fuyumi managed to hear him over the noise of the crowd, smiling softly. “Hey, Shoto. How are you?”  
  


Shoto wrinkled his nose, “I hate crowds.”  
  


“This _is_ a lot of people. Where the hell did they all come from?” That was Natsuo speaking this time, shamelessly eating from a packed plate of appetizers.  
  


Shoto shrugged, “Probably some nobles, or something. I haven’t really been paying close attention to Aizawa’s lessons.”  
  


Natsuo snickered, grinning mischievously. “Sperm donor’s not gonna like that.”  
  


Shoto shot him a blank look. “That’s the point.”  
  


“What’s the Prince like?” Fuyumi piped up.  
  


“Different from what I expected,” Shoto replied earnestly.  
  


And Katsuki had been. Shoto had been expecting some uppity asshole who genuinely thought he was better than everyone else. And, while Katsuki certainly acted like that sometimes, Shoto knew Katsuki would never expect something without having earned it. That much he could respect.  
  


“Still, not exactly my type.”  
  


“Well,” Natsuo spoke up, winking, “what is?”  
  


“Or who?” Fuyumi added, sounding uncertain.  
  


She wasn’t on the wrong track. Shoto had been pointedly trying to put off his feelings for Izuku—he _really_ didn’t want to mess the boy’s chances with Katsuki up. Besides, it wasn’t as though he had any real shot with him. Izuku had been clear from the start he was here for Katsuki, and no other.  
  


That didn’t stop Shoto from uselessly pining, though.  
  


“I’m here to attempt to woo Prince Bakugou.” Shoto pretended he didn’t hear Natsuo snort when he said the word ‘ _woo_ ’. “Not engage in potentially frivolous activities with any other inhabitant of the palace.”  
  


Fuyumi nudged his side gently, smile turning sad. “We’re not implying that you should. I’m only asking if anyone has, perhaps, caught your eye.”  
  


Shoto weighed the pros and cons of telling them about Izuku in his mind.  
  


On one hand, speaking it aloud only made his feelings all the more real. On the other, these were his siblings, and Shoto seriously doubted they’d ever share this information with anyone else besides each other.  
  


So, Shoto pointed, gesturing vaguely towards where Izuku was still chatting amiably with Ochaco and her parents. “You see him? With the green hair? He’s . . . well, I suppose I’m particularly . . . fond of him.”  
  


It was hard for Shoto to admit, especially out loud. He was sure his face was just a shade shy from the color of his hair with how hot he felt all of a sudden.  
  


Natsuo started shaking his shoulders, going on about how _cute_ that was, that his little brother had a crush. Fuyumi seemed slightly surprised, though not by much.  
  


“We met him the other day, actually. He’s so nice!”  
  


“You what.”  
  


Katsuki deigned that moment the right time to interject, preventing Shoto from getting any further response from his sister. He wondered if they had only stumbled into him in the hallways, and had immediately taken to each other. It wouldn’t be much of a surprised considering how easily Izuku seemed to get along with others.  
  


Or rather, maybe that was what Aizawa had called out Izuku for. Had Shoto’s siblings specifically sought out Izuku? How would they have known they were close in the first place?  
  


Shoto blatantly ignored Katsuki’s pointed looks at him for an introduction, leaving the three of them to figure it out. Natsuo hesitantly reached out a hand for Katsuki to shake, the latter seeming slightly miffed but meeting him halfway regardless. Fuyumi at least had the common sense to keep her hand to herself.  
  


“Where’re your parents, icyhot? Or, er, your dad?” Katsuki, brash as always, didn’t hesitate on calling Shoto out on the lack of his father’s presence.  
  


“He’s around here, somewhere,” Shoto answered vaguely. “I’m sure you’d be able to find him if you looked. He draws a lot of attention.”  
  


“I wouldn’t recommend going to look for him particularly.” Fuyumi smiled thinly. It didn’t reach her eyes.  
  


“ . . . Noted.”  
  


They talked amicably for some time, the space being filled mostly with Natsuo’s rambling. The boy clearly didn’t care that no one except Fuyumi was listening, continuing on as if nothing were wrong. With their fucked up family dynamic, he was probably used to Fuyumi being the only one around to listen to him.  
  


Katsuki didn’t stick around long. He looked tired, and Shoto didn’t blame him. Katsuki was probably making an effort to meet with _everyone’s_ families, and find some time to dance along the way. Shoto considered asking Izuku to dance with him, but ultimately decided against it. If Izuku wanted to dance with _him_ , Shoto decided to leave the approaching to the greenette instead.  
  


He rather spent his time thinking on how he was going to break the news about Touya to Fuyumi and Natsuo.

* * *

Enji couldn’t, for the life of him, find Shoto _anywhere_. He was nearly certain his youngest son was avoiding him. He was taking this odd rebellious phase of his too far.  
  


He’d lost Natsuo and Fuyumi somewhere along the way, although he didn’t particularly care to go actively searching for either of them. They weren’t important.  
  


The first of his kids he laid eyes on that night happened to be Touya.  
  


The boy looked shockingly different. His hair was dyed black, for one, rather than his natural shock of red hair, not too different from Enji’s own. That didn’t even mention the poorly treated patchwork of scars covering nearly every inch of his exposed skin. Enji had thought his eldest son died in that house fire, and even though Touya hadn’t, he clearly hadn’t come out unscathed.  
  


Despite this sudden change in appearance, Enji easily recognized his former successor. Touya had originally been set to take on his company, despite his rebellious tendencies. He’d never listen to Enji, and so he tried again, for a new successor. He continued training Touya, if all else failed. Natsuo was easily manipulated, but had trouble picking up easy school topics. Fuyumi would have made for the perfect future leader of his company, if only she’d been born a boy instead.  
  


Shoto was his masterpiece. He still seemed far too rebellious for Enji’s liking, but he was pliable enough to mold into the perfect successor. When it came time for him to retire, Shoto would step forth and take up his mantle.  
  


Unless, of course, he became King. Which Enji had to say was a _much_ better option. The kind of influence he’d have with his son as King would be astronomical. Considering Shoto’s remarkable progress thus far, it seemed Enji already had one foot in the door.  
  


It seemed, however, Touya turned out to be just as successful. When Enji first spotted him, he was dancing and kissing an unfamiliar blonde. The man seemed cheesy and had a complete lack of grace, but none of it mattered as soon as Enji realized exactly _who_ he was looking at.  
  


Prince Keigo Takami.  
  


Enji didn’t know how he’d grown so fortunate.  
  


“Touya.” Touya’s head snapped in his direction, eyes blown wide with barely concealed panic.  
  


Enji approached at a slow pace, taking his time. Touya squirmed uncomfortably, subtly trying to shift further and further away from Enji. Keigo, seemingly taking the hint, pushed Touya behind him, deciding to confront Enji himself.  
  


“Who the hell’re you?” He snapped, one hand wrapped tightly around Touya’s burnt wrist.  
  


“I’m Touya’s father,” he revealed. Keigo’s face only darkened. “It really is a pleasure, Your Highness, but if I could please speak with my son—”  
  


“No.”  
  


Enji paused, frowning. “Excuse me?”  
  


“I said _no_ ,” Keigo repeated, tone fierce. “We were having a perfectly good time before you came stomping over here. Leave us be.”  
  


Enji narrowed his eyes, looming at his full height. Normally, he’d be impressed by Keigo’s completely fearless response to his intimidation tactics. Right now, he was too pissed to care.  
  


“Who are you to stop me from a reunion with my supposedly dead son?” Enji growled, anger lacing his tone. “Step aside, Your Highness. Or you’ll sincerely regret it.”  
  


“Was that a threat?”  
  


“Take it how you will,” Enji replied icily, glaring. “I’m nothing but a concerned father _trying_ to ask after my son’s wellbeing.”  
  


Keigo scoffed, aggravating Enji further. “The only thing causing him any distress right now is _you_. Leave, now, or I will not hesitate to have the guards haul your ass right out the door. Do _not_ test me.”  
  


Enji considered his options. Picking a fight with the Fukuokan Prince only seemed a detriment to him. Keigo had more authority, for one. Usually, Enji could rely on it being his word against theirs. In that case, Keigo had the upper hand.  
  


Perhaps, the best idea for now would be to drop it. Enji shot the blonde his iciest glare.  
  


“This isn’t over.”

* * *

Momo was glad to see her parents—really, she was—but she had to admit she was a bit . . . embarrassed. Momo did everything she could to try and _not_ flaunt her parent’s powerful status. They didn’t have the same reservations, however.  
  


Kyoka, being the kind soul she was, had managed to put up with them for a good while. The girl in question had come over not long after Momo reunited with her family, asking the raven-haired girl if she wanted to dance. Momo had been all too eager to accept, but her parents offered a firm no in her stead. Apparently, it wouldn’t do for her to be dancing with anyone but Katsuki. Kyoka, to Momo’s utter relief, simply rolled with it, introducing herself to Momo’s mom and dad.  
  


Momo could hardly put up with her parents constant boasting about their achievements. She didn’t know how Kyoka managed to stay so reserved all of the time. She flustered easily, but kept her cool where it counted. It was something Momo really admired about her.  
  


Although, if she were being honest, Momo very nearly admired _everything_ about her.  
  


Kyoka brought up her extensive interest in music. Momo’s mother, Eshima, felt the need to brag about Momo’s profound skill in piano. She was exaggerating, of course—Momo had dropped the subject after only two years. It was fun at first, but became much less so when it felt as though her parents were forcing her into it.  
  


“If you’re a musician, I must ask, were you a Five?” Eshima seemed appalled at the mere idea.  
  


Kyoka nodded, composure holding firm in the face of her mother’s disdain. “I was. I’m a Three now, though, and I only practice music as a hobby. It’s still my passion, of course.”  
  


Izanagi, Momo’s dad, pursed his lips. “Rather unfortunate you had to grow up being taught such outlandish etiquette. You seem like a perfectly reasonable young lady—I suppose palace life, no matter how long, will do that to you.”  
  


The only indication Izanagi’s words were getting to her was the sudden tenseness of Kyoka’s shoulders, and the narrowing of her eyes. Clearly, Momo was the only one picking up on these cues.  
  


“She came like that, actually.”  
  


Momo let out a sigh of relief upon hearing Katsuki’s voice. Things were escalating far too quickly for Momo’s taste, and she was quickly getting tired of hearing her parents make off-handed jabs at Kyoka for doing absolutely nothing wrong. Katsuki, at least, they’d listen to.  
  


“Sure,” Eshima replied, tone disbelieving. “However, surely you can admit that us Twos are far more refined than the likes of lower castes.”  
  


“Depends,” Katsuki relented gruffly. “Momo’s one of the decent ones, but Neito’s kinda an ass.” Eshima took in a sharp breath of air at his blatant cursing. “On the other end, Deku’s one of the most well-mannered extras here, but Mina doesn’t know shit about etiquette.”  
  


He did have a point—it differed from person to person.  
  


Shoto was smart and well-meaning, but oblivious and often harsh or unnecessarily blunt. Izuku, however, was unbelievably kind, but increasingly self-conscious and easily overcorrected himself. Ochaco was outgoing and bubbly, but fiercely protective of her friends. Or anyone she was close to, for that matter.  
  


The trio came from a wide range of castes, and each had wildly different personalities. Momo couldn’t necessarily consider any of them to be intentionally disrespectful, towards Katsuki or _anyone_.  
  


It got Momo wondering over the purpose of numbers dividing them in the first place.  
  


The tension revolving around the conversation only seemed to heighten from there. Kyoka had suggested halfway through that they sneak off to dance, which Momo found herself immediately agreeing to.  
  


Katsuki continued debating with Momo’s parents—which, really, she found hilarious—while she and Kyoka snuck into the crowd. Momo easily took the lead, wrapping one arm around Kyoka’s waist. The shorter girl placed one of her hands on Momo’s shoulder, the other coming up to fit itself neatly in Momo’s free hand.  
  


On their third song, Momo felt an odd prickling sensation making the hairs on the back of her neck rise up. She glanced over her shoulder—quickly, trying to remain inconspicuous—only to find her mother glaring daggers at her back. Oh well.  
  


“Do you wanna move further away?” Kyoka asked, picking up on Eshima’s hostility.  
  


Momo nodded noiselessly in response, and Kyoka carefully shifted them away from the woman without needing to break apart. In fact, she only seemed to press her body closer against Momo’s own, allowing the taller girl to bask in her soothing warmth.  
  


Momo had been classically trained in ballet and ballroom dancing her whole life—she was no slouch when it came to dancing. Kyoka, however, stepping on her toes every other step, and could hardly keep proper pace with the tempo of the music. Momo didn’t mind, only held her close and offered a few quiet pointers here and there. Kyoka listened, carefully adjusting her movements until she was dancing nearly as smoothly as Momo herself.  
  


Their movements felt natural, and fluid. Momo had never been a fan of dancing, especially with other boys she was randomly paired up with in dance lessons. It always felt stiff, awkward. Some boys tended to get a little too handsy, and Momo didn’t feel particularly bold enough to speak up about it.  
  


Dancing with Kyoka wasn’t like that. She was soft, and quiet. Moments with her were tender, and sweet. She could dance with Kyoka for hours and never tire. It was a strange feeling for Momo, completely unfamiliar to her. She wondered what it was.  
  


Belatedly, Momo wondered if this is what _home_ felt like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to have Katsuki meet everyone's parents this chapter, but I was kinda rushing a bit and I have loads of schoolwork to finish today so I'm shifting it to next week along with a few other things I have planned.
> 
> Sero's mom must literally be Satan herself to scare even Katsuki, but like I needed at least one overly protective parent in there. And, even though I completely made him up, I love Suzuki XD He's kind of an idiot and its adorable
> 
> Minus Endeavwhore, I love the whole Todoroki family. And, protective Hawks is babey. I love him standing up to Endeavwhore in Dabi's honor
> 
> I'm really not sure how the last scene went from Katsuki fighting Momo's biased parents to low key momojiro, but I'm not mad about how it turned out :P
> 
> A list of the eight Selected (and the goal is to knock that number down to seven next chapter) plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> Next chapter will be Katsuki meeting Mina and Monoma's families, the reunion between Inko and Mitsuki, a confrontation between both Shoto and Endeavwhore, and Katsuki and Endeavwhore (because everyone telling Enji how much of a shit dad he is is just my cup of tea), and possibly, hopefully, the elimination (finally).
> 
> I'll have it out on Friday! See y'all then ^w^


	48. Reunion Between Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I realized after this chapter was written that Katsuki never actually properly met Monoma's parents. Honestly, I don't think I'm going to write their interactions at all because I'd really like to announce the elimination next chapter (since I still haven't done it) and be done with the Valentine's day event. I've dragged it out for way too long already.
> 
> Still, he does meet Mina's family at the beginning, and Mina's youngest brother who I made up randomly while writing this chapter is my pride and joy, and I love him. He's adorable
> 
> Enjoy

Katsuki was overwhelmed by the sheer force of Mina’s siblings. They swarmed him as soon as he came into view, all five of them—sans one somewhat older looking girl standing behind her siblings, waving shyly at Katsuki—coming to cling tightly to his legs. Mina rushed over to his side, too busy laughing to get out a coherent apology. Katsuki couldn’t even find it in himself to be upset.  
  


After finally prying himself from the four gangly kids’ clutches, Mina took the time to finally introduce him to her extensive family, starting with her parents and finishing off with her numerous siblings.  
  


“ _This_ is my mom, Kiko! And this is dad—Oshan.” The couple seemed nice enough, both offering a placating shake of the hand and apologies for their kids’ behavior. “Then we’ve got all my crazy siblings—except Hanako, she’s chill.”  
  


The eldest daughter, sans Mina herself, waved timidly at Katsuki yet again, cheeks erupting in a fiery red blush. She kept close to her older sister’s side, elbowing the pink-haired girl’s side and looking between Mina and Katsuki several times incredulously.  
  


“Wow,” she said in a poor imitation of a whisper. “He’s even more handsome in person!”  
  


“More of an ass, too,” Mina replied, looking Katsuki dead in the eye as she did so. Katsuki scowled, although Mina seemed wholly unaffected.  
  


Without missing a beat, Mina continued on introducing the rest of her family.  
  


“My two other sisters of Reiko, and Okimi—Okimi’s a real sweetheart, trust me. Reiko’s kinda shy, but we love her all the same. Yami—my brother—he’s a real troublemaker, but I don’t think he’ll be too much trouble for you. Er, hopefully.” Katsuki did _not_ find that reassuring in the slightest. “And our youngest—he’s only _three_ and absolutely _adorable_ —Myojo! Say hi, Myo!”  
  


The burbling three-year-old looked up at his big sister, then at Katsuki. He waved excitedly. “Hi, Mishter Prince!”  
  


He slurred heavily over the word ‘ _mister_ ’, but Katsuki decidedly didn’t draw any specific attention to that fact. Katsuki leaned down on his knees, holding out a calloused palm for Myojo to shake.  
  


“Nice to meetcha, kid.” Myojo looked at his hand in confusion, bewildered yellow eyes coming up to meet crimson. “You know what a handshake is, kid?”  
  


“I shake . . . your hand?” He asked.  
  


Katsuki nodded. Myojo reached out with both of his short, stubby hands, enveloping Katsuki’s much larger one in between. He shook his hand with as much force as he could, Katsuki loosening up his tense muscles and shaking back delicately.  
  


“Does that make us fwiends?” Myojo asked, smiling like it was Christmas morning. Katsuki couldn’t possibly find it in himself to ever say _no_ to that face.  
  


“Sure does, Myo,” he said. It was definitely worth it to see how excited Myojo became at the notion, jumping and squealing with joy.  
  


Katsuki spent a decent amount of time getting well acquainted with all of Mina’s family. She definitely got the pink hair from her mom, Kiko, but the yellow eyes seemingly came from Oshan. Her bubbly personality, however, was entirely her own.  
  


He’d made a point to try and get to know everyone one-on-one, although he couldn’t help but notice how Hanako seemed to be pointedly avoiding him. He wondered if that had anything to do with the handsome comment she’d made earlier.  
  


Yami had made a point to mention how spacious the palace was. For someone growing up with this big of a family, Katsuki could understand how it could be such a big adjustment.  
  


Reiko had stayed mostly silent, but Katsuki managed to get out of her that she admired the architecture and structure of the palace. Mina leaned over then, mentioning that Reiko had recently got into architecture and interior design.  
  


Okimi, much like her eldest sister, had seemed most excited about two things—the food, for one, and Katsuki, for another. She squealed and hugged him tightly when he came to talk to her alone, refusing to let go for another twenty minutes straight. Katsuki almost felt bad for eventually prying her off, keeping in that he still had to meet Neito’s family, _and_ make an attempts at dancing with the Elite.  
  


He bid his goodbyes to the extensively large family carelessly, bending down for one last high five with Myojo before disappearing within the throng of the crowd. Hopefully, Neito wouldn’t be too hard to spot.  
  


Unfortunately, he had the displeasure of running into someone _else’s_ parent—and they did _not_ look happy.  
  


Katsuki gazed brazenly into Enji Todoroki’s sneering composition, trying his best to retain his cool.  
  


“Greetings, Your Highness.”

* * *

Shoto had every intent of seeking out his father before the man decided to stir up any trouble. Apparently, after a brief discussion with Keigo and Dabi, he was too little too late. Keigo was simmering with barely contained rage, an emotion Shoto wasn’t sure he’d _ever_ seen the Prince express.  
  


It was disconcerting, to say the least. Shoto figured damage control was in order.  
  


Apparently, though, Katsuki had taken that duty into his own hands. He could see the blonde bristling silently in the thick of the crowd, Enji’s looming frame standing intimidatingly close to Katsuki. Shoto could barely hear Katsuki’s snappish response to something Shoto’s father must’ve said before he was intervening.  
  


“Father? There you are, I’ve been searching for you all night.” Shoto was lying through his teeth, and all three parties knew it. “I see you’ve acquainted yourself with Prince Bakugou.”  
  


Enji glared at Katsuki, as though he’d personally wronged them. Despite being pretty sure they’d only talked briefly, Shoto wouldn’t put it past him.  
  


“Your manners are lacking, boy,” Enji bit out, shuffling ever so slightly closer to Katsuki. His imposing manner made Shoto flinch, but Katsuki hardly reacted.  
  


“That so, eh? And who the hell’re you to tell me so, old man?”  
  


Shoto felt like facepalming. Here he was, trying to pacify the situation, and Katsuki was doing absolutely _nothing_ to help. Shoto feared what his father may do if Katsuki didn’t get his act together soon—mostly, he worried Enji might let his anger out on Shoto himself.  
  


“Is something the matter? You seem tense, Kacchan.” Shoto recognized the voice before he even saw the wild mane of green curls. Because, of course, he just needed _one more person_ to enter the already tense situation. Izuku, however, seemed to know _exactly_ what he was doing.  
  


“I’m fine, nerd,” Katsuki bit out, clearly _not_ fine. Izuku’s determination didn’t waiver for a moment.  
  


“Leave now, boy, you have no place in this conversation.” Enji said dismissively, tone firm.  
  


“On the contrary, I think it better I stay,” Izuku interjected. “If you would be so kind as to ask _politely_ , maybe I’d listen. I suppose, though, being a good person never really was your strong suit.”  
  


“What are you implying, _boy_?”  
  


Shoto shuffled closer to Izuku’s side, standing protectively in front of him. With an uncomfortable twist of the neck, Shoto leaned back to whisper in his ear, “What the hell are you doing?”  
  


Izuku matched his tone, “Trying to help.”  
  


Shoto felt guilt curl in his stomach—Enji was not someone to be trifled with. The fact that Izuku was standing up to him, primarily for _Shoto’s_ benefit, didn’t sit well with the heterochromatic boy.  
  


Before he had a chance to say as much, Izuku was talking again, “I only came to ask Shoto for a dance.”  
  


“Don’t bother,” Enji dismissed. “No lowly Six would ever be worth my son’s time.”  
  


Shoto saw red. How _dare_ he insult Izuku so casually, and for something as simple as a _number_? Katsuki looked about as angry as Shoto felt.  
  


“Now listen here you fucking rat-looking bastard—”  
  


Izuku cut off Katsuki’s sure to be long-winded rant, “And no poor excuse for a sperm donor would ever be worth his time, either, but here we are. I may be poor, but at least I have _class_.”  
  


Enji bristled, fist cocking back as though rearing for a blow. Sensing the impact that was sure to come, Shoto pushed Izuku fully behind him, preparing to take the hit in his honor.  
  


Katsuki lurched forwards, grabbing Enji’s wrist before he was able to make contact with Shoto’s cheekbone. Izuku looked horror-struck, clearly not expecting such public retaliation. Shoto hadn’t really been, either.  
  


Enji had always been conscientious of how he was perceived by the public. Because of that, he was always careful to appear the doting father in the public’s hawk-like watch. At home, however, he had no qualms of beating Shoto until he were black and blue, and having the audacity to _laugh_ at the sheer amount of pain Shoto were constantly in. As though Shoto’s life were some game to him—which, yeah, it probably was. He was careful never to hit Shoto’s face, though. He never left any marks that the public was able to see, and somehow no one caught on to what went on behind closed doors.  
  


Shoto longed for someone to realize what was happening, to reach out and help his family. He wished the doctors at the mental hospital would stop taking so many extensive bribes from Enji, and clear his mom so she could finally return home after however many years. She was better, by now, Shoto was sure. Enji was keeping her there on _purpose_.  
  


Nothing like this had ever happened, though. Enji would _never_ raise a hand to Shoto in public. He _especially_ hadn’t tried to hit someone _else’s_ kid, before.  
  


Without Enji’s usual outlet to let out his anger on—or, in other words, _Shoto_ —he probably had a lot of pent up rage stored. Maybe it wasn’t all that surprising that he was willing to lash out so easily. Shoto was only glad Katsuki had had the sense to step in before Enji actually managed to hurt someone. He’d already gotten his nose broken—Shoto did _not_ feel like adding a black eyes to his list of facial injuries.  
  


The unusual bout of anger had drawn a number of curious eyes to the scene. Shoto shied away from the lingering gazes. He felt a comforting hand fall on the small of his back—Izuku. Shoto leaned into the touch, shuffling as far from his father as he could.  
  


A guard was the first person to step forwards, dutifully ignoring the tense aura. “Is this man causing a problem, Your Highness?”  
  


Katsuki, a murderous look in his eyes, nodded, “Yes, he is. If you would escort him off the premises, please.”  
  


“Yes, sir.”  
  


Enji _roared_ in anger, “You can’t kick me out! I’m family of one of the Elite—you can’t take me away from my son!”  
  


“Yes, I _can_ ,” Katsuki snapped. “Especially when you’re proving to be a danger to him, as well as another of the Elite. Leave now, Todoroki, or I will have the guards _forcefully_ escort you out.”  
  


In a huff of anger and barely suppressed rage, Enji stormed out the door, guards trailing silently behind him. He made sure to walk towards the exit at Shoto’s back, forcefully shoulder checking Izuku in the process. The green haired boy hardly stumbled, to his credit.  
  


Shoto didn’t allow himself to release the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding until the door had slammed firmly shut behind Enji’s back.

* * *

Katsuki was _peeved_. He’d heard from Shoto himself that Enji Todoroki was _not_ a good man, but nothing could have made him expect _that_ shitshow.  
  


As soon as Katsuki noticed the man rearing back his fist for a blow, he was bounding forwards to catch his arm before any damage could be dealt. He could feel Enji’s muscles rippling fiercely beneath his grasp, but didn’t let up his grip. He _couldn’t_ let up his grip, or else Izuku or Shoto might pay the price.  
  


He felt an odd sort of satisfaction at Enji being escorted out by a gang of guards. Shoto seemed to relax immensely once his father was completely out of sight, a fact that didn’t make it past Katsuki.  
  


He decided to leave Shoto and Izuku alone—after all, the two were closer than Shoto and Katsuki probably ever would be. Katsuki still figured it was best to hold of seeking out Neito’s family for now. He was pissed, and that, meshed with Neito’s possibly prim family dynamic did not seem like a good combination. Luckily enough, when he spotted them, it seemed as though Kendo was keeping them entertained. Good, Katsuki could use a break from trying to act nice and shit for a little bit.  
  


He still had a lot to think about. His elimination, for one. He wasn’t lying when he told Izuku he’d already decided on who it would be. He planned to give them some headway about what was coming, and give them the chance to tie up any loose ends they might have at the palace before their public dismissal. He felt bad— _really_ bad. It wasn’t like he wanted to send anyone home, now, but his parents said if he didn’t make a decision, they’d make it for him. He _definitely_ wasn’t ready to part ways with Hanta, yet, more so than his personal elimination choice. If only he could find a chance to talk to them alone.

* * *

Inko was surprised but ultimately grateful that Mitsuki had so easily accepted Inko back into her life. Mitsuki caught her up on palace life, regaling many exciting stories from her time here. She ranted about the stresses of being Queen, something she admitted she hadn’t done in a while.  
  


“There’s just so much going _on_. With a war practically on the horizon, this damn Selection going on, and Katsuki’s adamancy against doing literally _anything_ we suggest to him, things have just been so hectic! I love Masaru, but I don’t there’s anything that could’ve prepared me for palace life, as luxurious as it seems.”  
  


Inko patted her friend’s shoulder sympathetically, “It must be a lot of responsibility. I could hardly even manage to raise Izuku after Hisashi up and left—I can’t imagine how you and Masaru are faring with Katsuki. He seems like a kind young man, if not a bit . . . brash.”  
  


Mitsuki snorted derisively, “Understatement of the year. I love Katsuki—really, I do—but he can be a handful sometimes.”  
  


“All children are like that,” Inko reminded her.  
  


“Izuku seems like such a sweet boy, though.” Mitsuki argued, “I can’t imagine you having much trouble with him.”  
  


Inko chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “Trust me, I did. Especially after Hisashi left—they were so close, at first. But . . . well, I suppose the stress got to him. Or, maybe, he just thought he’d be better off on his own. No matter, Izuku was _devastated_. Those were a hard few years for both of us.”  
  


Mitsuki pulled her best friend into a tight embrace, rubbing a soothing hand against her back. She wished she could’ve been there for her friend, before, but now is better than never. Despite Mitsuki originally being mostly against the Selection—she’d only gone along with it because she had to begrudgingly admit it _was_ a good distraction for the country—she was glad at least for the chance to rekindle her friendship with Inko. She’d be ecstatic is Izuku ended up marrying Katsuki, and Inko moved somewhere nearby, perhaps even into the palace. Then she could see and talk to her friend whenever she wanted.  
  


Perhaps it was merely a pipe dream, but Mitsuki couldn’t help but hope everyday felt as amazing as right now.

* * *

Katsuki found who he was looking for in record time. They were dancing with someone else, although they quickly stepped aside to talk with Katsuki for a moment, murmuring apologies to their dancing partner. The pair weaved through the crowd, Katsuki looking for a slightly more discreet place to talk.  
  


“Alright, listen up,” he whispered, rounding on the member of the Elite walking dutifully behind him. “Tonight I’m making an elimination.”  
  


Panic flashed briefly across their features, “It’s me, isn’t it?”  
  


Katsuki sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah,” he admitted. “It’s you. I wanted to give you a heads up—say any final goodbyes, or whatever.”  
  


They bowed their head, nodding, “I completely understand your reasoning. Thank you for the warning. Good night.”  
  


“Whatever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katsuki doesn't end up calling endeavwhore out on his bullshit parenting, but Izuku kinda does but not really and Katsuki still manages to kick his ass to the curb so brownie points regardless.
> 
> I can't for the life of me remember how three year olds act. Hopefully, Myojo's attitude doesn't seem too far-fetched?
> 
> Here's the list of the eight Elite (when is it ever gonna be seven? Even I'm getting impatient with myself):  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Yaoyorozu Momo – Two  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> I'm glad Mitsuki and Inko are reconnecting. Mitsuki and Masaru have a lot of pressure put on their shoulders, so I can understand why they're so harsh on Katsuki all the time, but y'know maybe there's a redemption for them in the future.
> 
> Next chapter will definitely be the elimination. I'm pretty much going to lead with that so I don't forget. Y'all are also finally going to find out Denki's response to Shinsou's proposal. Maybe some other stuff going on, but no promises.
> 
> I'll have that chapter out on tuesday, see y'all then


	49. It Was Only Ten Minutes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this chapter won't really make sense until the last sentence of the chapter.
> 
> The elimination will be REALLY obvious from the start. Some people in the comments made guesses as to who it might be, and I'm not sure if it's a good or bad thing that no one guessed it??
> 
> Enjoy!

Momo really should’ve been expecting her sudden elimination.  
  


It wasn’t even all that sudden, really. She’d admitted openly to Katsuki that she wasn’t particularly fond of him. He’d taken the news gracefully, admitting he’d only eliminate her if it were absolutely necessary. Knowing his parents, that was probably the case at this point.  
  


The only other people that she thought might not be there entirely for Katsuki were Shoto and possibly Neito, and after the showdown between Izuku, Shoto, and Katsuki, Momo could understand Katsuki’s reluctance to send Shoto back home. That left her as the most obvious choice. At least Katsuki had been kind enough to warn her of what lay ahead. It gave her plenty of time to tell Kyoka how she really felt.  
  


“Kyoka,” Momo said with as much confidence as she could muster. “Can we talk in private?”  
  


“Sure,” Kyoka agreed without hesitation. Momo led her through the crowd, holding Kyoka’s hand firmly in her hand along the way. If Kyoka was uncomfortable with the gesture, she didn’t show it. Only squeezed Momo’s hand comfortingly and allowed the raven-haired girl to lead the way.  
  


As soon as they were alone, out of earshot from any unsuspecting partygoers, Momo turned on Kyoka. She hadn’t exactly thought over what she wanted to say—really, she never thought she’d be in this situation. But Momo couldn’t possibly bear to leave the palace without at least telling Kyoka this.  
  


“What’s up, Yaomomo?” Momo wished Kyoka would drop the nickname—use her _real_ name. She longed to hear Kyoka say her first name, without the additional syllable.  
  


Momo wasn’t sure how to answer Kyoka’s question. She hadn’t thought much past ‘ _grab Kyoka and go_ ’, and here she was, tactless and hopelessly head over heels in love with the girl in front of her. Her brain, being the unhelpful thing it was, clung to the phrase ‘ _in love_ ’ and refused to let go.  
  


“I’m in love with you.”  
  


Kyoka looked as shocked as Momo felt. That was _not_ the way she’d wanted this to go—maybe a build up to those words, at the very least. Confessing her undying love to her best friend without as much as a word in warning? Not her smoothest moment.  
  


“But—but— _Yaomomo_ —” Kyoka spluttered desperately, floundering for the right words to describe how she was feeling. Momo refused to make eye contact. “But, you’re—you—you’re one of the _Elite_. You _can’t_ be in love with me!”  
  


“I’m being eliminated later tonight,” Momo revealed. Kyoka drew in a sharp gasp. “Prince Bakugou warned me ahead of time. I—I wanted to tell you before I had to leave. I _needed_ to tell you. If you—well, I understand if you don’t return those feelings. But I couldn’t hold it in any longer.”  
  


Kyoka’s next words were hardly a whisper, but Momo heard them all the same. “I love you too, Yaomomo.”  
  


“Momo,” Momo breathed her correction. “Call me Momo.”  
  


Kyoka grinned, soft and sweet. Momo felt as though she were falling in love all over again. “Only if you call me Kyoka.”  
  


“Okay. Kyoka,” she added, almost as an afterthought.  
  


Kyoka let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her cheeks flared in an intense blush after hearing her name come from Momo’s mouth. Her voice was like silk, smoothly caressing every syllable.  
  


Kyoka felt the sudden urge to kiss her.  
  


Momo laughed, “I want to kiss you, too.” Fuck, did Kyoka say that out loud? Midoriya must’ve been rubbing off on her. “But—well, to everyone else I’m still a member of the Elite. Let’s save that for another time?”  
  


Kyoka nodded, then paused, suddenly, a realization coming to mind.  
  


“What’s wrong?” Momo asked, concern lacing her tone.  
  


“I just realized—how is this going to work? I live in the palace full-time, now. What if we—”  
  


Momo cut off her rant before it could even begin, “We’ll figure it out. I could always try and find a job here at the palace, or in a neighboring village. We could live together—if you’d like, that is.”  
  


“ _Yes_ ,” Kyoka breathed, subconsciously tugging Momo closer towards her. “Yes, I’d love that.”  
  


Momo smiled, “Me too.”  
  


“I love you,” Kyoka repeated, one more time to make this moment feel all that much more real.  
  


Momo’s grin only grew, “I love you, too.”

* * *

Katsuki’s feet were practically going numb from all the dancing he’d done that night.  
  


He felt an odd sort of obligation to dance with every member of the Elite that night, leading up to _numerous_ dances with each of them. Neito vehemently refused to part ways at Katsuki’s suggestion, leading them through a solid ten songs before allowing Katsuki a break. He didn’t mind Neito’s presence, but he _was_ on a bit of a time crunch. Telling the blonde man this was the only reason he seemed to let up.  
  


It seemed as though Mina had been waiting for him during that time. She practically pounced on him the moment he was free, offering to go get refreshments together and allow him time to rest his feet. As soon as he felt fit enough to continue dancing, she’d grabbed his arm and tugged him to the center of the crowd, dancing metaphorical circles around him as she tried to lead him through one complicated maneuver after another.  
  


Hanta sought him out afterwards, but let Katsuki off the hook after one measly dance. He confessed to wanting to spend more time with his family—mostly his mother, he’d sheepishly revealed. Katsuki wasn’t too upset about the fact—he liked Hanta, he really did, but social interaction of any sort were not Katsuki’s thing. He wanted this night to end as quickly as possible.  
  


He weaved through the crowds, ignoring the minor ache in his feet, and got himself a cup of water. Out of the corner of his eye, he could spot Izuku and Shoto happily dancing together. Izuku was horribly off-beat, and Shoto seemed to be trying his best to correct him. Katsuki felt a twinge of sympathy pain for Shoto’s toes.  
  


Being the not entirely an asshole he was, Katsuki offered to take Izuku off Shoto’s hands—or feet—for a while. Izuku was all too eager to dance with Katsuki, hugging Shoto tightly before grasping Katsuki’s hand and making an odd attempt at dancing along to the rhythm of the music.  
  


“No, you dumbass, you’re way off beat.”  
  


“I am?”  
  


“ _Yes_ ,” Katsuki growled, trying his best to correct Izuku’s movements without breaking his own formation. “Just follow my lead, nerd.”  
  


Izuku _still_ didn’t get the hang of it after that. He was hopelessly doomed to a life with absolutely no rhythm to speak of whatsoever. Katsuki spent more time than he’d like to admit just trying to teach Izuku the basics—a fruitless endeavor.  
  


Katsuki gave in after about seven songs, shoving the greenette into Mina’s hopefully capable hands. After explaining how utterly hopeless Izuku was, the pink-haired girl seemed all too eager to show him the basics. The moves she was showing him were anything but ballroom, but Katsuki was too tired to call her out on it.  
  


Ochaco sought him out next. Somehow, she was still so full of unblemished energy even this far into the night. She didn’t even bother asking for a dance, just looped her arm around Katsuki’s and started dancing. Katsuki joined in after a moment of initial shock, his movements notably sluggish compared to Ochaco’s own.  
  


Shoto waved Katsuki away when he offered to dance, to Katsuki’s utter relief. That meant he could skip right to dancing with Eijiro, which he knew would be enjoyable regardless of how worn out he was.  
  


His initial thoughts proved correct. Katsuki wasn’t sure how Eijiro managed to carry a mostly one-sided conversation _and_ dance somewhat decently at the same time, but Katsuki wasn’t complaining. He was perfectly content to listen to Eijiro’s rambling about everything and nothing until the clock chimed down to 1, and it was time to announce who he’d be sending home.  
  


“Listen up,” he called, voice ringing out clearly across the wide space of the Great Hall. The crowd turned to face him, suddenly at attention.  
  


Katsuki felt bad announcing this elimination so publicly. He could see reporters standing amongst the crowd, cameras flashing in his direction. It was humiliating—not for him, but for Momo. But, after noticing the girl standing a ways away, hand intertwined with Kyoka’s, Katsuki had the distinct feeling she wouldn’t mind too much.  
  


“Thank to everyone who came tonight. I hope you enjoyed your evening.” Katsuki hated talking in this overly formal tone—it was _nothing_ like him. Katsuki felt like he were lying to everyone there. “Tonight, I’ll be making an elimination of one of the Elite.”  
  


Complete, utter silence befell the room as everyone waited in anticipation for who would be going home. Katsuki took a deep breath.  
  


“Momo Yaoyorozu,” he said, the name feeling like a death sentence with how anxious everyone seemed. “Thank you for your time. You are dismissed.”  
  


Katsuki walked briskly away from the roaring crowd, the door to the Great Hall slamming shut with brute force behind him.

* * *

Denki couldn’t stop staring at his ring.  
  


Hitoshi was still searching for a good place to sell it—one who would buy it for a fair price. After that, they’d buy their way up a caste—or two, if they’re lucky—and immediately start saving up for a decently proper wedding. A house was the number one priority, of course, meaning a wedding might be a long ways away.  
  


Denki didn’t mind. He didn’t care if they got married in some random, dark alley with nothing but straws of twine twirled together as makeshift rings, it’d be okay because his groom was _Hitoshi_.  
  


When Denki heard those words from Hitoshi— _will you marry me_ —there hadn’t been a doubt in his mind when he said yes. Hitoshi was the love of his life, he was certain. He’d be a fool to give that all up.  
  


Aizawa had offered calm words of congratulation. He promised to be there when they did get married, no matter what. Denki had immediately asked if Eijiro would be his best man if at all possible. Eijiro had simply broke down in tears, nodding that he absolutely would.  
  


Midnight and Mina had surprisingly similar reactions to the revelation. They’d both started squealing with delight, pulling the couple into a tight hug and squeezing so hard Denki felt his ribs bend beneath the pressure.  
  


He was _so_ happy. Denki had originally been worried things might’ve been hard between him and Hitoshi after everything that happened. With them being essentially homeless and struggling to make it from meal to meal, he really hadn’t expected things to have gone this smoothly.  
  


Yeah, nothing about their situation was necessarily _smooth_. But Denki was happy, and he had Hitoshi to thank for that.  
  


Even his utter fixation on his absolutely stunning ring couldn’t have distracted him from the sound of Hitoshi’s voice. Hitoshi had dashed off only a few minutes before, muttering something about needing to piss. Denki had agreed to watch the stuff, trying not to get too lost in thoughts about his and Hitoshi’s eventual wedding.  
  


Emphasis on _trying_.  
  


Sure, Hitoshi could simply be muttering to himself about this or that. Denki was pretty sure at least half of the Selected had managed to pick the habit up from Izuku at some point, himself and Hitoshi included. Although, this sounded too loud, too clear, to just be muttering. And—yeah, there was definitely a separate voice responding. The voice sounded oddly familiar, though Denki couldn’t seem to place where he’d heard it.  
  


He stood, making his way in the direction Hitoshi had disappeared before. Denki doubted this was another Eight coming to ask for some spare food—which happened surprisingly often—since the tone sounded too formal for the usual Eights that came by.  
  


“Iida?” He called in surprise after turning the corner. “Hatsume? What’re you guys doing here?”  
  


Tenya rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, offering Denki a curt smile. “Good to see you’re alright, Kaminari. Mei and I were just heading over to a neighboring village to find this exquisite bakery she told me about. We’re taking a shortcut through here.”  
  


“Why not ride there instead?” Hitoshi asked, monotone.  
  


“Mei was adamant against it . . .”  
  


“Exercise is good for the soul!” She insisted, hip-checking Tenya. “Besides, I’ve been putting on a lot of weight recently!”  
  


“You look great no matter what, Mei,” Tenya persisted.  
  


She waved him off, “You’re too sweet, Tenya. Ever think I might want to lose a little weight for _me_?”  
  


Tenya sighed, although he couldn’t hide his smile.  
  


“So, you two’re a thing now?” Denki asked, waggling his eyebrows.  
  


Tenya blushed, stuttering over his response. Hatsume, completely unabashed, replied, “Yep! We’re getting married.”  
  


She lifted up her left hand, wiggling her fingers to show off the shiny silver ring adorning her ring finger. After a delay, she yanked up Tenya’s hand as well to display his own.  
  


“Nice,” Hitoshi complimented, nodding his acknowledgement. “We’re planning to get married too, although we’re not really sure when.”  
  


Denki could’ve melted into a puddle in the floor right there with how flustered he was. How could Hitoshi just talk about their getting married so _casually_ like that? Denki felt like imploding whenever Hitoshi so much as flirted lightly with him.  
  


“I, uh, think you just killed your fiancé, Shinso,” Tenya interjected. What a saint.  
  


“At least I can die happy,” Denki squeaked out, burying his face in his hands.  
  


“Wait until at _least_ the wedding,” Hitoshi teased, drawing Denki up into his arms for a light kiss to his temple. Denki absolutely melted into the touch, pressing himself up against Hitoshi’s side.  
  


Tenya cleared his throat, drawing the couple’s attention back to him and Mei. “Well, we should be on our way. My parents are understandably uncomfortable with me being out for long.”  
  


Mei grinned, “You two could join us! We’re trying to pick out a wedding cake, but you both look like you could use a decent meal.”  
  


Hitoshi smiled wanly, “Honestly, we’d probably both get sick if we ate something that rich.”  
  


Denki nodded, frowning slightly. “Not to mention, we kinda have to guard our stuff so it doesn’t get stolen . . . the offer’s appreciated, though! We should definitely catch up sometime, now knowing you two are in a nearby area.”  
  


“Of course, that sounds wonderful,” Tenya agreed, smile polite. “We’ll bring you both back something, regardless. I’ll keep it small, however. It was good to see you!”  
  


Denki went right in for a hug, surprising Tenya. He reciprocated nonetheless, awkwardly patting Denki’s back. Mei was waiting for him, arms open. He squeezed the girl tight, her giving just as good as she got. It was a testament to just how much weight he’d lost that she very nearly lifted him right off the ground on _accident_.  
  


Hitoshi offered a mere wave of his hand in lieu of a goodbye. He wrapped his arm around Denki’s waist as the blonde returned to his side, kissing the crown of his head. Denki leaned into the touch, waving enthusiastically at the retreating couple as they went.  
  


“Bye!” He called, enthusiasm dripping from his tone.  
  


“See ya!” Mei returned, easily matching Denki’s volume and jovial tone.  
  


Hand in hand, Mei and Tenya continued down their path, curving around the bend of a building. With a flourish of last minute waving and a formal, yet final, goodbye from Tenya, the couple completely vanished from sight.  
  


When Denki went back to check on their things—feeling bad that they’d left it all alone even if only for a solid ten minutes—everything was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Momo, but I felt like she was the best choice to eliminate. It was either her or one other person (who I'm not naming because they might be the next elimination) who is still kinda valuable for Katsuki to keep around. Plus, I can finally write open momojirou thank g o d
> 
> I was going to end the chapter with Tenya and Hatsume vanishing from sight, but then I just thought 'what if all their stuff went missing' and here we are >:)
> 
> Here's the list of the 7 (f i n a l l y) Elite, plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> Next chapter is... I don't even know. I've been so focused on finished Valentine's day I haven't bothered thinking past that. probably just a date, or wedding preparations for either miritama or tenya and hatsume (because I have no clue what their ship name is). I'll have that chapter out on Friday!
> 
> On a completely random side note, everyone's been raving about among us and I'm wondering if it's really worth the hype. Is it really as good as I've been hearing, or just kinda overrated?


	50. Because We're Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm noticing a pattern forming with me naming the chapter after kamishin moments
> 
> Enjoy!

The first thing Momo did when she returned home was quit.  
  


It was such a satisfying thing to see the shock etched into every line of her boss’ face after handing in her two weeks’ notice. She had enough money saved up to last her awhile. At least until she landed herself a better, more professional job.  
  


After her two weeks were up, then she’d start planning for where she wanted to go. There was always that village she’d visited on the group date during the Selection. The place was big, and bustling, and while she heard they had especially harsh winters, Momo knew they’d have plenty of good job opportunities. If she started there, she could then work on trying to find a possible job in the palace, depending on what offers she gets in the new town.  
  


Moving in with Kyoka felt like a big step, but it was one they’d both considered carefully. Momo was ready, she was completely sure, and Kyoka had said much of the same in her letters.  
  


Still, they were going to take things one step at a time. First, Momo needed to finish off the next two weeks of work before doing anything else. Before her first move, Momo planned to find herself a stable job in the area she planned to go to. Then, she’d focus on moving into a quaint house in the suburban area of the town she had her eye on. After that, they’d leave the rest up to fate and good timing. Momo wanted to be with Kyoka so bad, but she wanted to make sure they could maintain a long-distance relationship for an extended period of time. If they could do that much, then Momo was rearing at the chance to move in.  
  


Of course, Momo did still have her reservations. Yes, she was at the perfect age to wed soon, but weren’t she and Kyoka still moving a little bit too fast? Momo didn’t exactly _want_ to slow down, but she would if Kyoka asked it of her. She only hopes her girlfriend would be honest enough to share with her if that were the case.  
  


And wasn’t that something—‘ _girlfriend_ ’. Yes, they had an openly established relationship, now. No, that doesn’t mean Momo’s entirely used to the concept. She can hardly think the word girlfriend without turning into a blush, stuttering mess. It’s particularly embarrassing when she’s mid-conversation with either a coworker or her parents. Luckily enough, they manage to brush off the strange behavior easily enough. Momo’s glad for the righteous ignorance, if only in this instance.  
  


Work seemed to grow twice as boring with all these plans for the future finally coming to fruition. There wasn’t exactly a surplus of available jobs, but Momo was sure she’d be able to find something easily enough with her newfound fame from the Selection.  
  


Her elimination had made front-page news, embarrassingly enough, but she’d still managed to make it to the final eight. Marriage proposals had been flooding in ever since she returned, almost too many to count. With each new suitor, she ruefully informed them that she was already taken. She’d broken more hearts in the past two days than she had in the span of her entire life.  
  


But, she knew it would be worth it in the end. She had planned a trip today into the neighboring town to the palace, and was planning to apply for both big and small-time jobs at bustling businesses in the area. The town was positively blossoming with business, meaning plenty of places to apply.  
  


She finished off her letter to Kyoka, signing it with a simple “Love, Momo” and a heart next to her name. She folded up the letter, with a detailed description of how everything was going on her end. She’d been sure to ask Kyoka how everything was going for her, and also to tell her she was beginning to apply for jobs as soon as possible. Hopefully, this meant they were only one step closer to moving in together.  
  


Momo couldn’t wait.

* * *

Denki was absolutely losing his shit.  
  


They’d only been gone _ten. Fucking. Minutes_. He wouldn’t be surprised if another group had been spying on them, waiting for the perfect time to strike. Denki shouldn’t be surprised—they were already a pretty big target because of the Selection. Hitoshi said this used to happen to him all the time, regardless. The fact doesn’t make it any easier for Denki to handle.  
  


Nemuri had come by a literal _day_ ago. She wouldn’t be back for another week or more, at least. Denki was adamant against resorting to stealing from townsfolk, or other Eight’s. It just wasn’t right, no matter how much they might need that food.  
  


Luckily, the blankets weren’t really a necessity anymore. Although it was still early February, the cold wasn’t entirely unbearable. If they stayed close, feeding off each other’s body heat, Denki was sure they’d manage. At least they’d already made it to Hosu, where it was warm and comfortable enough where they could last without shelter. If they had stuck around further up North, Denki wasn’t sure they’d be able to survive the biting cold.  
  


He was trying really hard not to cry. Hitoshi had an arm around his shoulder, Denki tucked comfortably against his chest. He could still feel the chilling wind nipping at his bare arms, but he did his best to ignore that in favor of focusing all of his energy on Hitoshi. It wasn’t working, but it was still worth it to try.  
  


“It’s gonna be okay, Denks,” Hitoshi reassured smoothly, his voice managing to calm some of Denki’s fears, though not all. “Aizawa or Nemuri will be back, soon. Iida and Hatsume already agreed to buy us food. We can make it last.”  
  


“We’re gonna have to,” Denki whispered, hating how choked up his voice sounded to his own ears. “We still have the ring, at least. If we sell it soon, we won’t have to worry about this much longer.”  
  


Hitoshi nodded. Denki could feel the slight movement against the top of his head, where Hitoshi’s chin was gently resting. “I’ll ask Iida if he knows a good place to sell it.”  
  


A silence overfell them, only intermittently interrupted by Denki’s sniffles. He wasn’t sure what he was so upset about. Hitoshi was all he needed, really. That didn’t make this any less of a heavy blow. He allowed himself to hope that everything would be fine. He should’ve known not to jinx their chances.  
  


“I love you,” Denki whispered, shifting his head to softly brush his lips against the curve of Hitoshi’s jaw. “We’re gonna be fine.”  
  


He wasn’t sure whether he was saying that to reassure Hitoshi or himself. Probably both.  
  


“I love you too, kitten,” Hitoshi replied, voice smooth as satin. Denki blushed at the nickname. “You’re right. Everything will be fine.”  
  


The ‘ _because we’re together_ ’ went unsaid.

* * *

Tenya was absolutely stuffed from all the cake he and Mei tried out. In the end, they only decided on chocolate, which made all of their choices and time spent seem fruitless. Still, it was a chance for Tenya to get out of the house. He hadn’t been doing much of that lately.  
  


They stopped by at a nice diner afterwards, purchasing a few non-perishable food items to go for Hitoshi and Denki. The sight of so much food after he just ate made Tenya nearly hurl, but he managed to hold himself back. Mei looked particularly green, as well.  
  


“All this food is making me sick,” Mei confessed. “I think I’m only minutes away from falling into a food coma. That was . . . so much cake.”  
  


“So many options,” Tenya agreed. “Chocolate was the easiest choice. I can’t remember half the things we tried.”  
  


“Me either,” Mei said. “There was one with raspberry in it that I remember being good. We should serve something with raspberries at the wedding—they’re yummy.”  
  


“Certainly,” Tenya amended. Anything for his fiancé, really.  
  


After their engagement, Mei had gone full planning mode. She’d told Tenya to just sit back and relax until their wedding day, something he wasn’t entirely keen on doing, but decided to pick his battles.  
  


Mei had started off with a list, mostly Tenya had just briefly skimmed. She’d already managed to check off more than half the items on the list. Most of what she had left wouldn’t take her long at all, at this pace. Tenya wouldn’t be surprised if they’d be married in a month, with how fast she was burning through preparations. He couldn’t say he was upset over it, though—really, he couldn’t wait to marry Mei. Clearly, it seems she’s just as impatient.  
  


Despite it being customary for the bride’s family to pay for the wedding itself, Tenya had already soundly offered for his family to cover the expenses. Mei had firmly refused, claiming they’d split the costs as though it were the simplest solution. Tenya wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought of that first, but agreed nonetheless.  
  


Everything was beginning to come together. As it would seem, Denki and Hitoshi had a wedding come up sometime, as well. Apparently, Mei wasn’t the only one who had decided that Valentine’s Day was the perfect time to propose. Tenya had seriously considered proposing then, but chickened out at the last moment. He had fretted over whether or not Mei would think they were moving too fast. Clearly, that wasn’t an issue. Oh, who was he kidding? It was _Mei_. Moving too fast was the least of her concerns, he was sure.  
  


With the wedding coming in so soon, though, Tenya figured it was about time for him to decide on a best man. Izuku was the first person who came to mind, followed by Shoto as a possible groomsmen. He’d have to send them a letter asking them about it, as well as an invite to Ochaco. He knows she’d definitely be down to attend. First and foremost, they’d need a date.  
  


Since Mei had pretty much taken wedding planning as a whole into her hands, Tenya thought it best to leave deciding on a date up to her. He’s sure she’d come to him first before finalizing anything, but Tenya knew deep down that any day she decided on would be perfect in his eyes. Anything she did was perfect to him, really.  
  


So lost in thought over the wedding, while also simultaneously trying to occasionally tune into Mei’s excited ramblings, Tenya hardly noticed they were in town until he realized with a shock that Mei wasn’t talking anymore. She wasn’t even walking at his side, standing behind him with a bemused smile adorning her features.  
  


“We’re dropping of their food, remember?”  
  


Tenya flushed, spluttering out a half-assed response. Mei waved him off, poking his ribs teasingly before leading him into the musky alley. It smelled vaguely of alcohol and dust, and another faint scent that Tenya didn’t even want to decipher. Hitoshi and Denki hadn’t seemed to notice. They’d probably gone nose blind to the stench by now.  
  


“Heya!” Mei shouted after catching sight of the couple. They were carefully wrapped around each other, leaning up against a fading brick wall leading to an abandoned pub around the entrance. Denki had his face pressed tightly against Hitoshi’s neck, and when he turned to face the couple, his eyes were rimmed with red, as though he’d been crying.  
  


“Is everything alright?” Tenya asked, concern lacing his tone.  
  


Denki sniffled, scooching further into Hitoshi’s touch conscientiously. “Fine. Thanks for bringing food.”  
  


Mei handed over the bag, filled to the brim with canned goods and non-perishable foods for them to ration for a while.  
  


“Of course!” She said. “You sure you’re okay?”  
  


“It’s nothing we can’t handle,” Hitoshi interjected smoothly, voice noticeably flat.  
  


“If you say so,” Tenya murmured unsurely.  
  


“I’ve got a question for you two, though,” Hitoshi quickly changed the subject, expression as blank as ever.  
  


“Shoot!”  
  


“Know any good jewelers? One that’ll buy a hefty piece of jewelry for a fair price?”  
  


Tenya thought it over, “I do, actually. He lives a few cities over, though. Why do you ask?”  
  


Denki sniffled again, and they all elected to ignore the action. “We came into possession of a really nice ring. It’s what Hitoshi proposed to me with, actually, and we’ve got a good feeling it’s gonna be worth a pretty penny. Maybe even enough to buy our way up a caste.”  
  


Tenya’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, “Really? How did you come to find this ring?”  
  


“We didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re implying,” Hitoshi snapped, cool composure breaking for the first time that night. He quickly school his expression before continuing, “It was a gift. The rest is . . . confidential.”  
  


“I see,” Tenya replied, although he didn’t really.  
  


“We’ll sell it for you,” Mei offered generously. “I’m sure a trek that far would be hard on anyone. We’ve totally gotcha covered!”  
  


“Are you sure?” Denki asked, fidgeting nervously.  
  


“Of course,” Tenya assured, bowing his head politely. “Considering your situation, I’m sure you both could use the help. It’ll be no more than a day’s trip if we go by carriage. We can it by tomorrow night at the latest if we leave at dawn.”  
  


Denki unraveled his arm from where it was twisted around Hitoshi’s neck, shimmying the ring off of his finger. He handed it to Mei, her being the closest.  
  


“Here,” he offered, handing it to her reluctantly. He seemed sad to part with it, but did so nonetheless. “Tomorrow night is perfect. Thank you both so much.”  
  


“It’s really no problem,” Tenya reassured.  
  


“You’re welcome!” Mei chirped, carefully tucking the ring into Tenya’s satchel. “We’ll be back tomorrow night!”

* * *

Izuku felt like it had been ages since he’d last seen his mom.  
  


Since she and Eri came to visit the palace, he’s been spending a considerable amount of time in their room, either playing with Eri or catching up with his mom. Most times, both.  
  


As it was now, it was just him and Eri in Izuku’s room. The little girl had yet to see it, actually, and so Izuku was mid-tour of the large suite-like room when one of his maids came in through the door, interrupting his and Eri’s alone time that he’d bashfully requested they not interrupt unless it were absolutely necessary. With that in mind, he turned his full attention to the girl.  
  


She cleared her throat, “Your presence is needed by the palace gates, Sir Izuku. Someone is here to see you.”  
  


Izuku, lifting Eri up into his arms as soon as his shoes are on, moves to follow his maid dutifully.  
  


“Someone’s come to see me?” He questions, confusion etching its way into the smooth crease of his forehead. “Who is it?”  
  


His maid shifts nervously, “He claims to be your father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :>
> 
> I love random cliffhangers I come up with in the moment. Sometimes I don't come up with some of my favorite ideas until I'm at least halfway through writing the chapter.
> 
> Here's the remaining Elite, plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro – Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku – Six  
> Todoroki Shoto – Two  
> Ashido Mina – Five  
> Monoma Neito – Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco – Seven  
> Sero Hanta – Four
> 
> Next chapter is gonna be some miritama fluff, the reunitement (is that even a word? I think I just made that up) between Izuku and his dad, and also Todoroki telling Natsuo and Fuyumi about Touya. It'll be out on Tuesday ^^


	51. Not as it Seems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was fun to write (although its kinda short, sorry)
> 
> Regardless, enjoy!

Izuku was apprehensive about meeting this man waiting for him. He didn’t know much about his father, just what his mother had told him. Which, really, wasn’t much. Inko would probably be the best person to confirm his identity, but his dad had decided to ask for _Izuku_ to greet him rather than his wife.  
  


Still, he went. He followed his maid as she led him through every sharp turn of the palace. Izuku was surprised to realize how familiar each hallway was. They weren’t the same, identical passageways anymore—instead, he’d learned to navigate this formerly unknown terrain. Despite his reservations about meeting his dad, Izuku felt a small bout of pride for himself swell up in his chest.  
  


If he were to become King, he’d need to know how to navigate his own palace, after all.  
  


The thought brought up a surge of anxiety, stronger than the one he’d felt after hearing of his father’s arrival. He loved Katsuki, that much was certain, but Izuku couldn’t help but think he’d never make a great ruler. Not even a good one, at that.  
  


Izuku shoved the thoughts down, forcing them to the back of his mind. One problem at a time.  
  


Izuku’s ‘ _father_ ’ was nothing like he’d been expecting. He was dressed in clean, rich black robes adorned with a crest Izuku didn’t recognize. His hood was up, covering most of his face. What little of his facial features Izuku might’ve been able to make out where covered by a black mask, covered in tubes and wires. It was thick and black, going as far as to cover his neck. There wasn’t an inch of his skin exposed.  
  


“Izuku,” the man called out, voice deep and rich. “So good to see you again.”  
  


He moved as though to hug Izuku, although the greenette quickly shrugged the unfamiliar man off of him. It didn’t seem to faze him. He straightened his back, looming at least a foot above Izuku’s much smaller stature.  
  


“Hisashi,” Izuku greeted tonelessly, recalling the name from the back of his mind. “It’s, uh, been a while.”  
  


“I’m sorry for that, my son,” he apologized, sounding, to his credit, sincere. Izuku wasn’t really buying it, though. Eri was looking on between the pair in confusion, eyes flickering back and forth constantly. “I didn’t intend to stay away so long.”  
  


“Don’t you think it a bit convenient that you decide to return only after I began participating in the Selection?” Izuku snapped, burning hot rage uncoiling uncomfortably in his stomach. “How do I know you’re even my real father? You won’t let me so much as see you.”  
  


Hisashi stopped walking, body slumping in resignation. He drew back his hood, gently grasping at the edges of his mask. Izuku watched in hushed anticipation as the mask slid back, revealing heavily scarred skin, stretching all the way from where the tip of his nose should be to his forehead. Izuku bit back a sharp gasp.  
  


“I know, terrible, isn’t it?” He asked calmly, righting the mask back to recover his horribly scarred and mangled flesh. “I was recovering. That’s why I was gone. That was unfair to you and your mother, and I’m sorry.”  
  


Izuku reached out, to grasp at what, he didn’t know. Hisashi took his hand, holding it tightly in his own.  
  


“I’m sorry,” Izuku whispered, feeling terrible all of a sudden. His father had been suffering all these years. Years Izuku had spent resenting him. “I should’ve known . . .”  
  


Hisashi raised his hand, cutting off Izuku’s protests before they could even begin. “None of that, Izuku. I understand why you might’ve been upset.”  
  


The dam broke. Tears flowed from Izuku’s eyes like waterfalls. Eri clutched his chest tightly, nuzzling against his neck in the most comforting manner she could offer. Hisashi, hardly questioning Eri’s presence, pulled both his son and the small child clutched carefully in his arms close to his chest.  
  


A gloved hand reached up to stroke evenly through Izuku’s unruly curls, only seeming to make them worse. It soothed Izuku, though, tears slowly subsiding into heart-wrenching sniffles.  
  


“Thanks, dad,” Izuku mumbled.  
  


“Of course, Izuku,” Hisashi replied, warmth embracing his tone. “It’s so good to see you again.”  
  


Beneath the mask, Izuku didn’t spot the cruel smirk tugging at the corner of Hisashi’s lips.

* * *

“Did you just add _another_ thing to the to-do list?”  
  


Nejire huffed, “Flower arrangements are very important!”  
  


“How about just . . . white roses?” Tamaki offered shyly.  
  


“That’s so _basic_ ,” Nejire moaned, flopping back in her chair dramatically. “Plenty of flowers have a meaning related to love! I’ll talk to a florist about setting up an arrangement that’ll fit your color scheme, yeah?”  
  


“Um, sure?” Tamaki agreed unsurely. “What’s our color scheme again?”  
  


“Yellow and purple!” Nejire chirped, shoving her clipboard at him rather forcefully. On it was a compiled list of everything they needed to get done, spanning over the length of five pages. Less than half the check-list was complete, with little notes and tidbits stuffed haphazardly into the margins.  
  


“. . . This is chicken scratch, Nejire.”  
  


“No it’s not!” She protested, pointing to something at the top of the page, as though that would prove her argument. It didn’t. “See? Color scheme, right there!”  
  


“I can’t read your handwriting,” he muttered.  
  


She huffed, snatching the clipboard back from his waiting hands.  
  


“My handwriting’s great!” She said, although Tamaki wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself at this point. She puffed out her cheeks, “Anyways, flower arrangements aren’t really important right now. The wedding probably won’t be for _months_.”  
  


“Oh,” Tamaki muttered dejectedly. “Months?”  
  


Nejire snorted good-naturedly, “Yeah, silly! Weddings don’t just appear out of thin air!”  
  


Tamaki shrugged, suddenly feeling stupid. _Of course_ it would take longer than a couple months for their wedding preparations to be complete. Nejire’s ever-growing list of things to do was proof of that.  
  


Nejire place a comforting hand on his arm, “Don’t worry, Tama!” She reassured, “You two’ll be married in no time! Just try and relax for now. And think up a place you want to honeymoon at, yeah?”  
  


“I’ve never really thought about it,” Tamaki muttered quietly. “I’m fine to go wherever Mirio wants to.”  
  


“Oh, come on,” Nejire complained. “Mirio’s not gonna get upset with you for voicing your opinion. There’s nowhere you’ve ever wanted to visit?”  
  


“Well . . .” Tamaki began hesitantly. At Nejire’s expectant look, he continued, “There is this one place . . . I hear they have good food . . .”  
  


“Great!” Nejire squealed, all sunshine smiles and blinding energy. “Talk to Mirio about it!”  
  


Tamaki shifted uncomfortably, absentmindedly pressing the tips of his pointer fingers together. “I don’t want it to seem like I’m, well, uh, pressuring him, or anything.”  
  


Nejire sighed, “How about I talk to him, yeah? That way the suggestion is coming from me, and he can give his honest opinions!”  
  


“Okay,” Tamaki agreed timidly, refusing to say any more on the matter.

* * *

A sharp knock on the door startled Fuyumi from her reading. She masked her surprise, ignoring her brother stirring on the end of the bed opposite her as she calls out a brief “Come in!” to whoever had bothered knocking on her door in the first place.  
  


She feels a mix of surprise and understanding when the sight of Shoto’s mismatched hair comes in through the doorway, eyes taking in Natsuo’s sleeping form and Fuyumi’s book, now laying haphazardly open on the bed beside her. She’s sure she’s lost whatever page she’s on, but Fuyumi can’t find it in herself to care.  
  


“Come in,” she repeats, softer.  
  


Shoto nods, shuffling the rest of himself through the doorway before shutting the door with a soft click. The lock clicks into place right after, as Shoto stalks towards the bed, sitting awkwardly between his two siblings.  
  


Fuyumi waits for him to start speaking. Knowing him, he probably wouldn’t be here unless he had something important to say. Shoto hadn’t made much of an effort so far to seek her and Natsuo out. Fuyumi would be lying if she said she weren’t upset, but she does understand. Shoto hardly knows them, and his social skills are already lacking as it is.  
  


Shoto opens and closes his mouth several times, clearly indicating there’s something he wants to say. Fuyumi waits, giving him a kind, patient look. She shuts her book, losing her spot for sure now, and folds her hands over top one another on her lap, carefully waiting for Shoto to find the words he needs.  
  


“There’s something I need to tell you and Natsuo,” he eventually expressed, expression an unreadable mask.  
  


Fuyumi nods, reaching over Shoto to shake Natsuo awake. With a loud yawn and obnoxious stretching he sits up, blinking blearily at Shoto’s still form at his side.  
  


“Sho?” He asks, the aftereffects of sleep still lacing his tired tone. “Whatcha doin’ here?”  
  


“There’s something he needs to tell us,” Fuyumi informs him quietly. She watches on in silence as the alertness returns to Natsuo’s silver eyes, shimmering with a concentration she didn’t often see from him.  
  


“What’s up, little bro?”  
  


Shoto ignores the fond nickname, barreling on without pause. “Touya’s alive.”  
  


Fuyumi sucked in a sharp gasp, trading twin looks of utter shock with Natsuo. Fuyumi could still clearly remember the day he’d died, the house burning to ash right alongside him. There was nothing left of him to salvage, not even a possession or two to remember him by. All traces of Touya had suddenly and irrevocably been removed from their lives. Enji banned any talk of Touya, and what happened that day. Fuyumi always did her best to forget, though she never truly could.  
  


The idea of Touya being even remotely alive is preposterous. Fuyumi watched her brother die, the skin melting right off his face. She could still hear his anguished screams, smell his rotting flesh. The moment haunted her dreams, playing on repeat whenever she shut her eyes.  
  


For the most part, she’d done well to cast the memory to the darkest depths of her mind, never to be seen again. With the help of a therapist, Fuyumi managed to move on, if only barely. Natsuo and Shoto had both been devastated, but neither of them saw what she had.  
  


“There’s no possible way he’s alive, Shoto,” she voiced her thoughts aloud, tone firm and unyielding. She felt immediately bad for taking up such a harsh tone with her youngest brother, but this was _Touya_. Fuyumi couldn’t even dare to hope.  
  


“Fuyumi’s right,” Natsuo agreed quietly. Tear fell quietly down his cheeks, dripping soundlessly off his chin. “He’s dead. No way he coulda survived that fire.”  
  


“But he did,” Shoto persisted.  
  


“He’s _dead_ , Shoto!” Fuyumi yelled. Shoto flinched at the harsh tone, making Fuyumi then flinch in turn. She was quick to apologize, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.”  
  


“It’s fine,” he amended weakly, though it clearly wasn’t. “He’s Dabi.”  
  


“Dabi?” Natsuo asked, clearly as confused as Fuyumi herself.  
  


Shoto nodded, “The Akuyakuan representative with the burn scars. If you really don’t believe me, talk to him.”  
  


Fuyumi frowned, trying to picture the man in her mind. She could vaguely recall black hair, and mottled purple skin, roughly stitched together in a clearly hurried fashion.  
  


“I didn’t know Touya as well as you both did,” Shoto whispered, voice meek and small. “But I know this. Just—trust me, alright?”  
  


“Alright,” Natsuo agreed hoarsely, responding before Fuyumi even had a chance to. “I trust you.”  
  


“We both do,” Fuyumi whispered her agreement, unsure but there nonetheless.  
  


“Thank you,” Shoto said with a slight nod, shifting his position in a move to get up from his spot. Fuyumi was sad to see him go so soon, but figured it was for the best. She and Natsuo had a lot to think about. “I suppose I’ll see you both later.”  
  


“You will,” Fuyumi affirmed. “. . . We love you, Shoto.”  
  


Shoto paused, startled by the words as though he weren’t used to hearing them. Knowing their family dynamic, he most definitely wasn’t. It made Fuyumi sad, to think Shoto had been mostly alone all those years with Enji. No one there to support him, help him through the bad days, like Natsuo and Fuyumi had each other.  
  


“I love you too,” he said finally, words earnest and kind. He looked over his shoulder at them, offering a small, peaceful smile. “Thank you.”  
  


“For?” Natsuo asked.  
  


“For . . .” Shoto paused, mulling over what he wanted to say, “For trusting me.”  
  


The door shut behind him with a click, enveloping the room in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh, I'm a really big fan of the theory about afo being Izuku's dad (which is the case in this fic if you couldn't already tell by the description). So, hes actually his dad, gonna say that right now, but like... I think its pretty obvious his intentions arent exactly pure. Anyways, moving on before I start spoiling stuff cuz I have no filter--
> 
> I could've written the scene between natsuo, fuyumi and dabi and made the chapter longer, but I'm trying to spread stuff out, ig. I have the next elimination planned out (or maybe the next three at least, but they might not all be in order) and will gladly take any date suggestions for the future (cuz I dont really have anything planned for the dates themselves, just the eliminations).
> 
> here's the list of the 7 remaining Elite plus their former caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro - Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku - Six  
> Todoroki Shoto - Two  
> Ashido Mina - Five  
> Monoma Neito - Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco - Seven  
> Sero Hanta - Four
> 
> So, next chapter will probably have a cute scene from at least one couple outside of the palace, and hopefully a date, plus Natsuo and Fuyumi talking with Dabi. Until Friday <3


	52. My Home in the Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, I've never really had a job before (or even a job interview) so with the scene with Momo--you'll probably figure out what I'm talking about when you get to it--hopefully it's not too inaccurate? Idk
> 
> Enjoy!

Ochaco found herself up on the roof most nights. She’d trace the constellations with her fingers, memorizing the patterns and shapes Katsuki had shown her.  
  


Sometimes, Katsuki would join her. Most often, he wouldn’t. Ochaco’s pretty sure by now that he’s well aware of her regular nightly excursions. That’s fine, especially since he hasn’t bothered to tell anyone. Ochaco wouldn’t really mind if she were sitting up here with Izuku, or Shoto, but something about the comfortable silence wrapping around her like a blanket just makes Ochaco feel at home.  
  


It’s strange, really, because it’s so different from what her life before the palace was like. She practically lived on a construction site, returning home for some peace and quiet only to be abruptly interrupted by the sound of machinery. With time, she got used to the constant loud noises. Here, everything is soft, and quiet. She’s going to miss it when— _if_ , she repeats over and over in her mind hopefully, like a mantra—she goes home.  
  


She’s holding out hope, but Ochaco knows she needs to be realistic. She knows it’s been too long for her to still be upset, but that popularity poll really put a damper on her mood. Maybe if she’d—  
  


“You look like you’re thinking about something,” a gruff voice called from behind her back. Ochaco turned, brown eyes meeting vermillion. “Nice night out, huh?”  
  


“Yeah,” Ochaco whispered, eyes carefully trailing after Katsuki’s languid form as he took his usual seat beside her. Their shoulders barely brushed together, the limb feeling like it was on fire from the contact.  
  


“What’re you thinking about?” Katsuki asked, sharp gaze focused forwards towards the stars. Ochaco followed his gaze, admiring the Big Dipper from where she sat, tracing the shape over and over again in her mind.  
  


“Nothing,” she replies drolly, slumping against Katsuki’s side with a sigh.  
  


“Doesn’t seem like ‘nothing’,” Katsuki pointed out, not unkindly.  
  


“It’s nothing I really feel like talking about,” Ochaco offered quietly. Katsuki shifted, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders. The rough skin of his palm brushed her bare shoulders, fire igniting from every point of contact.  
  


“With me?” Katsuki asked. “Or in general?”  
  


Ochaco pondered it. To be fair, talking about it with Izuku or Tenya would be remarkably _less_ awkward, especially since she couldn’t very well ask Katsuki to reassure her that she wouldn’t be going home.  
  


With a sigh, she replied, “With you.”  
  


Katsuki hummed, taking the revelation surprisingly well. Ochaco studied his profile, absorbing the way his gravity-defying blonde hair glinted silver in the pale moonlight, reflected starlight pooling in his crimson eyes. He always looked beautiful cloaked in the darkness of night. Ochaco treasured every moment, memorizing the way he looked.  
  


“You’re staring,” he pointed out, eyes never shifting from the sky.  
  


“Who wouldn’t?”  
  


Katsuki chuckled, wrapping his arm tighter. It was odd behavior from him—usually, their moments spent together under the stars were quiet, soft. They’d sit side-by-side, only inches apart, the distance feeling like a mile with how much Ochaco longed to touch him, to be held by him. Now, with it happening, Ochaco was certain it was worth the wait.  
  


“You’re awfully touch-feely tonight,” she teased good-naturedly. She made sure he knew she didn’t mind, nuzzling the side of her head into his shoulder.  
  


“What? Am I not supposed to be?” He teased right back, outwardly ignoring her attempts at moving closer.  
  


“I can’t tell if you’re doing this because you need it or you think I do,” Ochaco pondered aloud.  
  


“Is both an option?”  
  


It was Ochaco’s turn to chuckle, “In that case, I’m happy to oblige.”  
  


She curled into his touch, a long strand of puffy, brown hair swinging into her field of vision. She was too cozied up to bother moving it.  
  


Katsuki started talking at some point, eyes directed dutifully towards the sky. He talked about the stars, again, as if they were the most wonderful thing. Perhaps they were, for all the passion in his voice revealed. Ochaco felt like they were her most wonderful thing, too, offering comfort in warmth no matter how unfamiliar the place.  
  


She wished she’d seen the stars before, in the same light she does now. It’s different, back home, with the chemical-induced fog coating the air. The stars seemed faded, and so far away. Here, on the roof, next to Katsuki, they seemed clearer than ever before.  
  


Maybe that was it—home. Ochaco didn’t know where her home was, but she thought that if only she could look up and see starlight glittering incessantly in an inky ocean of infinite black, she’d be there. Home. Home was the stars, she was sure.  
  


Having Katsuki at her side just made it all that much better.

* * *

Momo was awaiting a phone call from Endeavor Industries at any day.  
  


She felt a pang of guilt when applying there, especially after what went down between Shoto and his father—Enji. Momo _needed_ a job, though, since she’d be out of one in only a week’s time. So, fine-tuning her resume and making herself seem most presentable, Momo strolled into a job interview with a lovely young woman who went by the name Moe Kamiji. They went back and forth for a while, Momo exuding confidence from all of Kyoka’s encouragement. She left the interview feeling oddly proud of herself, and delightfully hopeful.  
  


Moe had promised she’d receive a call within the next two weeks, whether she’d gotten the job, or not. Despite the interview having taken place only a couple days before, Momo’s well aware that the sooner they get back to her, the more likely it is she got the position. If she finds herself waiting the full two weeks—well, it’s probably best she start applying to other places before then.  
  


She’d written Kyoka all about the predicament, explaining the places she planned to apply for. Endeavor Industries was one of the most remarkably famous and well-paying businesses in the area, so despite Momo’s initial reservations, she applied there first and promptly promised to tell Kyoka whether or not she got the job.  
  


Momo was pondering over what to write for today’s letter when she got the call. Her hand was poised thoughtfully over the blank piece of parchment, mind struggling to fit the words she planned to say together in the most eloquent yet understandable manner. Kyoka didn’t have the same reservations, just writing whatever comes to mind _when_ it comes to mind and mailing it straight to Momo’s address without a second thought. Momo spent meticulous hours poring over her letters, deciding the best way to convey with only words how boring life has grown now that she knows what one with Kyoka in it is like.  
  


Dropping her pen, Momo abandons her letter in favor of answering her phone with a curt, “Momo Yaoyorozu speaking.”  
  


“Yaoyorozu, good,” Moe’s gruff voice cuts through the line, staticky and sharp. Momo recognizes her right off the bat, perking up considerably at the impromptu—yet rightfully expected—phone call. “I’m not gonna mince words here, girl, you got the job. Boss’ expecting you to start soon as possible—so, tomorrow, more like. I’ll be training you for the next two weeks.”  
  


“Thank you,” Momo says politely, hardly bothering to hide her million-watt grin. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow then.”  
  


“Be there at 6 am, sharp.”  
  


Moe doesn’t bother with goodbyes, just hanging right up on Momo without another word in edgewise. Momo doesn’t have it in her to be upset over the lack of pleasantries. Working for Uwabami was nice—really, it was—but working at Endeavor Industries is a whole other story. They’re two completely different worlds, in which Momo gets the chance to have been a part of both. She’s understandably more excited about a job working under Enji Todoroki, even if she’ll eternally hate her boss for what she suspects he did to Shoto in his adolescence.  
  


The words to write come to her suddenly, and Momo’s writing before she even has time to process the overflow of emotions broiling in her chest.  
  


 _Dear, Kyoka_ , she begins, simply, and it feels a lot like the start of a bright future ahead.

* * *

They found Dabi in Keigo’s room, of all places. Fuyumi definitely hadn’t thought to look there, instead getting the idea from one of the maids passing by. After noticing their turmoil over not being able to find him, she stopped to help.  
  


“You seem lost,” she pointed out calmly. “Is there any way I can help?”  
  


“We’re looking for Dabi,” Fuyumi replied. “Any chance you might have an idea where he is? He’s not in the gardens or his room—and we’ve searched other spots Shoto said he might be in but—”  
  


“Try Prince Keigo’s room,” the maid interrupted, nodding her head in the direction Fuyumi and Natsuo had just come from. “He goes there a lot, too.”  
  


Fuyumi nodded, thanking her, and beginning to walk away. She turned back around only a moment later, a question hanging on the edge of her tongue.  
  


The maid smiled knowingly, answering Fuyumi’s unspoken question, “It’s the door right across from Sir Dabi’s.”  
  


Fuyumi nodded, willing away her embarrassment and took off again, Natsuo on her heels. She felt a surge of unease well up, flittering anxiously in her stomach. She trusted Shoto with a lot of things, but—it was like he said. He didn’t know Touya the way Fuyumi and Natsuo had. Their brother’s death hadn’t nearly impacted him the same way it had them—in fact, it shouldn’t have impacted him at all. Father lied right to her brother’s face, claiming Touya simply ran away rather than the tragic truth. He hadn’t wanted his perfect creation toiled by the holds of grief, and had earnestly threatened disownment to anyone who revealed the truth.  
  


Fuyumi and Natsuo kept what really happened away from Shoto for another reason—they couldn’t bear to upset him. Mother had left not long before then, and father only seemed to grow worse with the news of Touya’s death. He had a lot to deal with, and didn’t need the information of his eldest brother’s death weighing him down.  
  


How he came to know this information, then, was a mystery. Natsuo and Fuyumi made a pact when they were young—in Shoto’s eyes, Touya was a runaway and that was that.  
  


To think the carefully crafted lie father made up on the spot might actually be _true_ seemed ludicrous, at the least. There were a lot of holes in the story, those only Touya himself could fill—if Dabi really was him, that is.  
  


She thought of this as she walked, standing in front of what she hoped was Keigo’s door for a solid two minutes before bringing up a fist to knock.  
  


She dropped her hand.  
  


What if Shoto was wrong? She could already feel the hope stirring in her heart—Fuyumi wanted her brother back, more than anything. She loved Natsuo, but Touya and her had always been closer than close. They hadn’t been born that far off from each other—they were Irish twins, in fact. Born in the same year, but not the same day.  
  


Fuyumi didn’t know if she could handle losing her brother—her _best friend_ —again.  
  


Natsuo ended up knocking for her. Fuyumi barely had time to compose herself before a vaguely unfamiliar voice was calling out; “Come in!”  
  


Natsuo was the one who opened the door, too. Fuyumi was sure he was as rattled as she was by the whole situation, but still he came through for the both of them.  
  


Dabi was on the bed next to Keigo, the two of them cuddled up hip-to-hip. He looked up at the sound of the door opening, making hesitant eye contact with Natsuo, then Fuyumi in turn. Keigo looked on between the three, expression morphing from a welcoming grin to a strained smile.  
  


“Should I go?”  
  


“It’s your room, dumbass,” Dabi replied smartly, huffing as he stood. “Are you two here to see me?”  
  


Fuyumi nodded wordlessly. Dabi followed them out the door, leading them across the hall to his unlocked bedroom. The room was mostly empty, devoid of any personalized decoration. It was about as much as Fuyumi expected from him, considering how little time he’d truly spent at the palace.  
  


“Shoto told you?” He asked, cutting right to the point.  
  


“He did,” Natsuo confirmed. “We’re having some troubles believing him, though.”  
  


“I saw Touya die,” Fuyumi bit out. Natsuo shot her a concerned look, which she pointedly decided to ignore. “How do you expect me to just _believe_ that he’s alive—and you’re him?”  
  


“I got these scars somewhere, didn’t I?” Dabi retorted. He sighed, “Listen, I get it’s hard to believe—Shoto had an easier time understanding because he thought I was alive all along. And I—I wanted to come back. Really, I did, but—well, god, it’s such a mess now.”  
  


“Start from the beginning, then,” Fuyumi ordered sharply.  
  


“Okay. We all saw that fire—god, it hurt like fucking _hell_. But I did survive—barely. Half my skin was burnt off and I was literal minutes away from death itself when some dude with white hair helped me out. When I came to, I was in Akuyaku—the palace, actually. The same guy who helped me out came to greet me, telling me he’d saved my life and to call him Sensei. I’ve been in his debt ever since, which is kinda how I ended up here. He saved my life, so I owe him mine.”  
  


“So, you’re basically being _enslaved_ by this weird ‘ _Sensei_ ’ character, huh?” Fuyumi summed up coldly.  
  


Dabi bristled, “Not enslaved, exactly. I work for him, yeah, but I could leave whenever I want. But I know a chance when I see one. Even if Shigaraki is an annoyingly petulant child at heart, it’s better to serve him than try to slum it on the streets with these kinds of injuries.”  
  


Fuyumi mulled his words over in his head. It did make sense—though she questioned why Sensei would be in Shizuoka in the first place. Why he decided to help Dabi when he could have just left it well enough alone.  
  


“Can we meet this Sensei person?” Is what Natsuo asked, mere seconds before Fuyumi could ask the same thing.  
  


“No,” Dabi firmly denied. “He’s very private. Went through this accident six years back—half his face is built up of scar tissue by now. Now he just communicates with us through a screen that’s sound only.”  
  


“Then can we _talk_ to him?” Fuyumi rephrased. “I’d like to meet the man who saved my supposed brother’s life.”  
  


“We’ll see, ‘Yumi,” Dabi said. Fuyumi flinched at the sound of the familiar nickname. “I’ll do what I can.”  
  


A heavy silence fell over the three of them, encompassing the room uncomfortably. Natsuo happened to be the one to break it; “We should be going. Lots to think about.”  
  


“Alright,” Dabi agreed, frowning at the ground. “I’ll see you both around.”

“Yeah,” Fuyumi replied, voice eerily empty, even to her own ears. “See you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like there are a lot of ships that I don't normally like that I kinda enjoy writing in this story's setting. This Bakugou feels a lot more chill, ig
> 
> Here's a list of the seven Elite:  
> Kirishima Eijiro - Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku - Six  
> Todoroki Shoto - Two  
> Ashido Mina - Five  
> Monoma Neito - Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco - Seven  
> Sero Hanta - Four
> 
> Speaking of the Elite- I think next chapter, I'm gonna write the next elimination. In one of my previous chapters, I mentioned it being between Momo and one other person, but thats not the one getting eliminated this time (it was Shoto, and I decided against sending him home yet because- Enji). So, yeah, expect an elimination soon :>
> 
> 'til Tuesday!


	53. Numb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a lot of fun to write :>
> 
> I love Sero. He needs more screen time
> 
> Also, just to let y'all know--100,000,000 yen is approximately (not exactly, though) $950,000. It'll be brought up near the end of the chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

Hanta was often described as a pretty chill guy.  
  


Back home, he had a good number of friends—no one particularly close, but there’s was always something to do. He had his family, too, who—despite their small misunderstanding over Denki from the other night—meant the world to him. Suzuki was a bit of a ditz at times, but he was a funny kind of dumb that had Hanta thinking he knew exactly what he was doing. Mom and dad were—well, mom and dad. There weren’t really words to describe those fond moments from the past—running around the backyard catching dragonflies with mom cheering him on from the patio. Or camping trips in the woods with dad—just the two of them, every time.  
  


He’d had a pretty good life. Still does, really but—things don’t seem quite so straightforward and _chill_ anymore. Hanta loves every moment of it.  
  


He came into this looking for something new. Hanta had never been the type of person to fall in love on the spot. The phrase ‘ _love at first sight_ ’ didn’t apply to him, because love didn’t come for someone he didn’t _know_. He could appreciate someone, though, without knowing them on a personal level. It’s what draws him in to wanting to know more.  
  


So, he didn’t love Katsuki coming into the Selection. When he applied, he was thinking of the interesting yet wildly misunderstood Prince he saw every week on TV, but knew next to nothing about. The feeling hadn’t sat right with him—and so he came. And he learned, and he grew to care for Katsuki on a more personal level. He didn’t know if he could call it love—love was such a difficult feeling to decipher—but he knows that he cherishes every moment with Katsuki.  
  


Hanta’s always been a pretty chill guy, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t things he’s passionate about. The Selection is one of them—Katsuki more than the Selection itself. If he doesn’t win—a thought that passes through his mind without the expected anxiety and anguish—he won’t lose touch with Katsuki.  
  


He won’t lose touch with Katsuki, or Mina, or Eijiro, or—  
  


Except, he _has_ lost touch with Denki. He’s been avoiding visiting like the plague, for reasons he can’t describe. Maybe it’s the guilt, over not even having the decency to look his best friend in the eyes one more time before he was gone. Perhaps it was the fear—the fear that things wouldn’t be as fine as Aizawa said they were.  
  


He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind, and saves them for another day. He ignores the niggling reminder that _another day_ has come and gone and he’s still holding off.  
  


Instead, he prepares. For a date, though he hasn’t a clue what they’re doing—just that Katsuki was coming to his room to get him at 7. It was nearly quarter ‘til by now, and Hanta wasn’t even remotely ready.  
  


Nyoko had had to call out sick the day before with a mild case of bronchitis. Keina had followed right after, catching the infection from none other than Nyoko herself. Apparently, the disease had been flitting around the palace staff, leaving a lot of the castle inhabitants understaffed. Hanta didn’t mind, though his remaining maid—Bashira—seemed terribly off-put by this. Hanta could see her clear panic every time she so much as coughed.  
  


Hanta pointedly hadn’t told her about the date, then. He could take care of himself perfectly fine—he always had, really—and saw no reason to stress her out even more than she already was.  
  


It wasn’t until he had one hour until Katsuki was meant to arrive that Hanta didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. The bathroom was neat, tidy, but terribly difficult to navigate. It took him a solid fifteen minutes to find where the shampoo, conditioner and detangler was stowed away—under the sink, which Hanta feels like he should’ve realized long before he did.  
  


Clothes was another issue entirely.  
  


Hanta hadn’t grown up poor, and it’d be incredibly ignorant of him to say so—but his family _was_ rather conservative with their money. So, when they prioritized saving up for a nice house and proper education over expensive, unneeded clothing—Hanta didn’t protest. His outfits were bland, at best. His fashion sense had reached its peak after coming to the palace, thanks to his maids. Hanta himself, though, was still used to basic brown slacks and old, yet comfortable, T-shirts.  
  


His hair, though—Hanta didn’t know what his maids did to it, but he would swear up and down it was magic. Hanta’s hair was thin and wiry—not the best combination. It left it looking flat and oily most times, even after a fresh wash. But all his maids would do was spray some stuff on it and brush and down and suddenly it looked great—better than it ever had.  
  


Hanta stared himself down in the mirror, wondering what the hell kinda magic those girls were pulling to make it look so good. Yes, he was dressed—in an outfit he was sure Bashira was scoff at the sight of—but his ensemble didn’t feel _complete_ anymore.  
  


The idea of a haircut came suddenly, and Hanta found himself outside of Mina’s room before he had time to talk himself out of it.  
  


“Hanta?” She asked, looking him up and down with disinterest. “Don’t you have a date soon?”  
  


“Yeah,” he confirmed, shouldering his way inside her room. She let him without complaint, shutting the door behind his back. “I, uh—I need your help.”  
  


Mina snorted, “Clearly. That outfit is atrocious.”  
  


“Not with _that_ ,” he whined, sticking his tongue out at her. It was a childish gesture, he knew, but she repeated it right back and it made them both laugh so he couldn’t find it in himself to care. “Okay, maybe a little with that. But—do you know how to cut hair?”  
  


“Where are your maids?” Mina asked, already shoving him down into a chair and procuring a pair of scissors. “And how short?”  
  


“Sick,” Hanta replied, “and, um, short?”  
  


Mina shook her head, facing him towards the mirror of her vanity and making her movements overly pronounced so he had time to protest anything he wasn’t comfortable with. He found himself relaxing into Mina’s touch, watching with mild interest as she cut away long strands of mousy black hair. They clumped up on the floor, though Hanta tried his best not to look.  
  


Mina cut his hair with a practiced precision, cutting off about two inches at a time and continuing when he asked her to take off more. By the time she was done, Hanta had beautifully styled, close-cropped raven locks—and only ten minutes until he was meant to be meeting Katsuki.  
  


Mina, noticing the time, shoved him out of the seat. She ignored the clumps of hair littering her floor, instead dragging Hanta by his elbow towards his room. Hanta followed without complaint, laughing when she got lost around an unfamiliar bend or corridor. That got him a swift elbow to the ribs, though Hanta wasn’t particularly upset about it.  
  


“First of all—” Mina’s voice rang out, muffled, from inside Hanta’s closet. She was tossing clothes at Hanta as fast as he could catch them. She stalked out, holding another stack and tossing them at him haphazardly, “Black and brown clash, dumbass. The green’ll suit you much better. Try it on, hurry, hurry.”  
  


Hanta listened, Mina respectfully turning away as he changed. A knock on the door resounded just as Hanta was pulling on his pants. He hastily buttoned them, slipping on his shoes and rushing towards the door at the same time.  
  


Naturally, he faceplanted, though Mina was kind enough to open the door for him.  
  


“He’s a mess,” she informed Katsuki solemnly. “Good luck.”  
  


Hanta rubbed his nose agitatedly, sitting up to greet Katsuki. The blonde looked at him in shock, hardly paying attention to the sorry state of Hanta’s room.  
  


“Your hair,” Katsuki observes clearly.  
  


Hanta rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly, “Yeah, well—two of my maid’s caught a nasty case of bronchitis and Bashira’s just been so stressed lately, y’know? So I didn’t tell her about today’s date so she wasn’t here to help me get ready but then I realized I’m an absolute mess—and my hair just looked so bad without using that magical-spraying-stuff on it, so I was like, why not cut it? But I knew if I cut it it’d be all choppy so I went to Mina cuz I was hoping she’d know what to do and—”  
  


“Shut the _fuck_ up, holy shit,” Katsuki interrupt, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “It doesn’t look terrible, soy sauce face. You should fucking keep it short.”  
  


Hanta’s whole face lit up in a blinding grin. “You think so?”  
  


“It’s what I just said, isn’t it? Fucking listen,” Katsuki grumbled. Hanta’s grin only widened at the lack of heat backing up the words.  
  


Katsuki led the way through the palace—a good thing, because Hanta wouldn’t have been able to find his way around even if he _did_ know what they were doing. Surprisingly enough, he recognized exactly where they were before the even went inside.  
  


“The movies?”  
  


Katsuki cocked a brow in his direction, swinging to door open wide for the both of them. “Got a problem with that?”  
  


Hanta grinned, bounding through the open doorway, followed closely by Katsuki and a resounding _thud_. “Nope! Wanna watch an action movie?”  
  


Katsuki grunted, which Hanta took as an affirmative. Since he chose the genre, Hanta adamantly told Katsuki to choose the movie. He went strong for a solid fifteen minutes before grumbling out, “whatever”, and going to choose a movie.  
  


They sat side-by-side in the seats, room lit up by nothing but the screen in front of them. Hanta was completely invested half an hour in, ooh-ing and ah-ing at all the cool action scenes. Katsuki was slumped over in his seat, looking thoroughly unimpressed, though Hanta could tell by the slight upward curve of his lip that he was enjoying it.  
  


Katsuki took them to raid the kitchen next. He looked absolutely appalled when Hanta grabbed nothing but an armful of oranges, but Hanta shrugged off the look and shouldered his way past Katsuki and up towards his room.  
  


“I take you to get snacks,” Katsuki comments disbelievingly once they’re in his room. Katsuki’s eating what Hanta swears up and down is pure hot sauce, so really he has no room to judge. “And you get fucking _oranges_. The fuck—they’re not even _good_.”  
  


Hanta gasps dramatically, clutching a hand to his chest. “You take that back! Oranges are so good!”  
  


“No one like fucking oranges.”  
  


“ _Everyone_ likes fucking oranges,” Hanta shoots back, peeling the skin off delicately and failing miserably in his attempt. He takes a bite, relishing in the familiar taste, “Except you.”  
  


“Gross, dumbass. Swallow before you speak,” Katsuki reminds, flicking Hanta on the forehead.  
  


They sit there and talk—talk about everything, and nothing. They talk about Hanta’s parents, and his dumbass brother who Hanta loves for that very reason. Katsuki tells him about his childhood—back when things were fun and easy and he didn’t have _responsibilities_. Hanta wonders how that Katsuki might’ve ended up if he’d never had to worry about taking the throne.  
  


Hanta can’t even imagine the stress—he tries _not_ to imagine it. Hanta didn’t come here for the crown, and anyone who did is out of their mind. It sounds nice on the surface—riches and scores of fame—but what lies beneath the swirling mystery isn’t as shiny and pretty as it seems.  
  


“Have you ever wanted to just . . . run away?” Hanta asks. By now, they’re both done eating their meager snacks. They’ve sprawled out over the expanse of Hanta’s bed, ankles interlocked—the feeling’s surprisingly grounding. “Just pack up everything and leave it all behind?”  
  


“I could,” Katsuki replied, tone more solemn than Hanta had ever heard it. “I did. I left—and no one was able to stop me, either. But—I’ve got an entire country depending on me. It took me the span of three days to realize that this role of mine is bigger than just me and what I want. Everything I do has to be for the good of the people—for Shizuoka as a whole.”  
  


“That sounds like a lot of stress,” Hanta says, because it does.  
  


Back home, there wasn’t much for Hanta to worry about—everything felt _chill_. Good friends—not too good, but good enough—nice parents, a cool brother, a well-paying job and being born into a decent caste. Not everyone got to live that decent, mediocre life—some lived life in the lap of luxury, and some lived life from paycheck to paycheck, squabbling for food and money with every passing day.  
  


Katsuki didn’t have that life—and Hanta wasn’t sure he could say he did anymore, either. He still had his parents, and his old friends—but Hanta was a part of something so much bigger than his hometown of Tokyo. Now he had Katsuki, and Mina, and Eijiro and—and he had Denki, though Hanta was sure he’d fucked that friendship up by now.  
  


Before, he’d show up at Denki’s room at 2 in the morning because he couldn’t sleep and he _knew_ the blonde would welcome him in, whether he’d woken him up or not. They talked about random shit until Hanta felt tired and passed out on his bed, waking up with Denki clinging to him like a koala. He’d laugh, and poke his cheek, and Denki would wake up, settle into a more comfortable position, and fall right back asleep.  
  


It’d become routine for them, after a while. Now and then, Hanta would find himself standing outside Denki’s room on nights when he couldn’t sleep. He’d sit on the ground leaning against the door—because when he went in, it always felt so _empty_. They’d cleaned out all of his belongings, and the room didn’t even carry Denki’s faint scent of lemons and raspberries anymore. Hanta would fall asleep curled up next to the door, and wake up with dried tear tracks and maids who pointedly didn’t ask questions, which he was grateful for.  
  


“It is,” Katsuki replied to a statement Hanta didn’t even remember. Katsuki’s foot curled around his own—a welcomed touch that Hanta reciprocated. Katsuki wasn’t good with physical affection—they all knew this. But he tried sometimes, and he always seemed to know exactly when they needed it most.  
  


After a prolonged beat of silence, Katsuki said, “I can hear you thinking. Fess up, soy sauce face.”  
  


Hanta sighed, shifting so he was on his side. His face was turned towards Katsuki, who was glaring pointedly at the ceiling.  
  


“It’s not really something I can talk to you about,” Hanta admitted sheepishly, tacking on, “No offense”, almost as an afterthought.  
  


“I don’t give a fuck,” Katsuki replied heatedly, kicking Hanta in the knee playfully. “Just don’t let shit like that build up. I do it all the fucking time and look at me.”  
  


Hanta scrunched his eyebrows together, “What do you mean by ‘ _look at you_ ’?”  
  


Katsuki puffed out his cheeks, rolling over on his adjacent side so he was properly facing Hanta. He still had to crane his neck to look him in the eye properly, but neither of them spoke on it.  
  


“I’m a bitch, soy sauce face,” Katsuki said, expression perfectly solemn. “Everyone knows it—for fuck’s sake, I call you _soy sauce face_. I bottle shit up and then lash out at others when it gets to be too much—don’t let that happen to you, too. You’re not half bad, don’t become like me.”  
  


An estranged silence followed the declaration, one Hanta didn’t know how to break. He wanted to—to tell Katsuki he was wrong and that he wasn’t cruel at all—but that felt like a lie. Katsuki was never intentionally harmful, but he could be essentially mean at times. But—  
  


“You’re not a bad person, y’know,” Hanta points out earnestly. Katsuki glares at him, a withering look Hanta deigns to ignore. “You _are_ kind of a bitch sometimes—but c’mon, man. You’re not bad. If I was uncomfortable with you calling me soy sauce face I woulda said something by now.”  
  


“You have,” Katsuki grumbled, puffing out his cheeks petulantly.  
  


“In a _teasing_ manner, sure,” Hanta acquiesced. “But I don’t care about it. Mina doesn’t mind that you call her raccoon eyes, and Eijiro doesn’t mind you calling him shitty hair—which, yeah, that’s fair because it really is.”  
  


Katsuki chuckled, a warm sound that settled comfortably beneath Hanta’s skin. “Yeah, it is pretty damn shitty. Thought you mighta taken the cake for worst hair ‘til you cut it, though.”  
  


Hanta ran a hand through his short, raven locks. It felt light without the added weight, a sort of freedom coming with the loss that Hanta hadn’t expected to feel over something as simplistic as a _haircut_.  
  


“Do you like it?” He asked—because Hanta loved it. He’d gotten the briefest of glimpses once Mina had finished and instantly fallen in love.  
  


“I do,” Katsuki affirmed—no snarky remark or comeback. It made Hanta feel warm. “You gonna keep it like that?”  
  


“I think so,” Hanta confirmed, running another calloused palm through the loose strands of hair. “It’s so light.”  
  


“Why’d you keep it so fucking long in the first place?” Katsuki questioned.  
  


“I went through a man bun phase for a while,” Hanta admitted, chuckling sheepishly. “Kept it long afterwards. It’s just—been that way ever since.”  
  


Katsuki was quiet for a while, and Hanta felt himself growing equally as quiet so as not to break the soothing atmosphere floating around the room. Hanta wasn’t sure how long they lied there, but Hanta was nearly half asleep when Katsuki shifted his position around so he was lying chest-to-chest with Hanta.  
  


Oddly enough, it made him think of Denki. When they’d lie together—it was nice. There were no questions asked, didn’t need to be—Denki just knew when Hanta needed it, and he provided him with a warmth Hanta couldn’t find otherwise.  
  


Lying beside Katsuki felt the same way. A hollow had carved itself in his chest since Denki left, one he didn’t know how to even begin filling. Therapy had been helping, but it couldn’t do everything.  
  


Katsuki seemed to bring back some of that warmth he’d lost, seeping into the hole in his chest that Hanta hadn’t yet figured how to fix.  
  


“Thank you,” Hanta whispered in a choked voice.  
  


Katsuki didn’t say a word—he didn’t need to. His actions spoke louder than any words, and they both knew Katsuki was better at showing what he meant than saying it.  
  


Hanta closed his eyes when Katsuki leaned in, meeting him halfway with a soft brush of the lips. It was hardly a second of contact, but Katsuki must’ve deemed it enough, because he pulled back then. Hanta thought it to be enough, too, because—  
  


Well. He hadn’t felt anything.  
  


When they kissed—he hadn’t felt _anything_.

* * *

Tenya could feel the ring in his pocket weighing him down.  
  


He was nervous about this—he’d found a reliable jeweler nearby, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a little anxious about not getting an honest price for Denki and Hitoshi’s ring. This ring symbolized their _future_ , and Tenya was loathe to mess it up for them.  
  


Mei had offered to come, though Tenya doubted she’d had had the time even if he said yes. She’d been swamping herself in preparation for the wedding, resolutely refuting any of Tenya’s attempts to help.  
  


It leaves Tenya with far too much free time. Most days, he’ll find himself sitting by Tensei’s grave and talking for hours and hours about life—he’ll talk about Mei, and the wedding, or Ochaco, and kind and consolidating words, and Izuku, and his estranged dad who recently turned up out of nowhere, wearing Akuyakuan robes of all things.  
  


He wishes Tensei could’ve been there for his wedding. Tensei himself had been fixing to get married soon, and promised Tenya he’d be best man when the day came. Tenya had soundly promised the reverse would be true—but now neither events would come to pass.  
  


It left Tenya feeling hollow. A void opened like a never-ending pit in his chest. Day-by-day, bit-by-bit, Izuku, Ochaco, and Mei worked to fix it, but Tenya knows there’s a part of him that will never be the same.  
  


He’d left a single red carnation over the grave, stalking away with wet dirt and mud staining his pants. He couldn’t find it in himself to care, going straight to town without a care.  
  


He received a few odd looks for his bedraggled demeanor, but no one commented. He could feel the cold from the grass soaking into his knees, sending chills up and down his legs.  
  


It took Tenya fifteen minutes to find the jewelers he was searching for. A little bell tinkled when he opened the door, announcing his arrival.  
  


“One moment!” A young, feminine voice called out from what Tenya assumed to be the back room.  
  


The woman on staff was as young as she sounded—probably not much older than Tenya himself.  
  


“Oh,” he said, carefully approaching the counter. “Did I get the wrong place . . ?”  
  


“You’re looking for a Mr. Matsushita, yes?” The girl asked, grinning impishly. Tenya nodded, keeping a respectable distance from the counter. “He caught the flu! I’m his daughter, so I volunteered to step in for the day!”  
  


“Alright,” Tenya conceded easily, digging for the ring in his pocket. He procured it, offering it to the young woman carefully.  
  


She inspected the fine piece of jewelry, turning it over and over in her hands with each careful touch and glance. Tenya could tell just by watching—she was an expert.  
  


“This is a _nice_ ring. Where’d you get it?” She asked, holding onto it.  
  


“I’m selling it for a friend,” Tenya explained. “They’re hoping to buy their way up a caste.”  
  


“That so?” She continued conversationally. “If it’s real—which I’m willing to bet it is—they definitely could. Maybe even two. I’ll have to check—make sure it’s real, of course. If it is, I’m willing to offer up to ¥100,000,000 for it.”  
  


Tenya blinked, “That’s . . . a lot.”  
  


The woman chuckled, “It’s a nice ring. Come back tomorrow, and I can give you the money then.”  
  


Tenya bowed, a full ninety degree angle that never ceased to hurt his head with the whiplash. “I’ll see you then, Miss Matsushita!”  
  


“Seeya,” she dismissed coolly, waving a hand even as she turned back towards the room she’d been in when Tenya first arrived.  
  


Tenya left feeling surprisingly satisfied, and glad that he might get to share some good news with Denki and Hitoshi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, if Sero cut his hair I would s i m p s o h a r d. Literally, Shoto Todoroki who? All I see is short-haired Sero
> 
> S o the elimination is coming up soon and I think I made it pretty obvious in this chapter who it was. I was gonna write the elimination this chapter--but like school sucks ass plus I was busy this weekend, so I'll write it next chapter instead.
> 
> here's the list of the 7 Elite (and it's about to go down to six, but hell if I'm not gonna keep writing about them once they leave the palace anyways) plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro - Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku - Six  
> Todoroki Shoto - Two  
> Ashido Mina - Five  
> Monoma Neito - Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco - Seven  
> Sero Hanta - Four
> 
> Next chapter is going to be some afo stuff (drama? him just being a conniving bitch and terrible father? who knows), maybe another little excerpt from Miss Matsushita (that's a hard maybe, though) and definitely the elimination. I'm getting closer and closer to the end of this fic--I can't wait! After this one is done, if I haven't already, I'm going to finish He Deserves to Know and then start and new series called 'The Many Lives of Izuku Midoriya'. Once this story is over and done with--look out for it if you like my writing I guess?
> 
> Anyways, I'll have the next chapter out on Friday--see y'all then!


	54. Tenya Makes a New Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in completely unrelated news, I played among us for the first time recently and n o o n e warned me it was this addicting TwT
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

Katsuki woke to dim, unfamiliar lights, soft sheets, and the sound of something being zipped up.  
  


He curled onto his side, staring unseeingly at the lone figure standing over the bed. Sensing Katsuki’s movement, their gaze snapped up to meet his, a soft, infectious smile greeting him. Katsuki had to fight down the familiar tug of his lips at the sight.  
  


“You’re up,” Hanta commented lightly, throwing his meager suitcase off the bed. Katsuki tracked the movement sluggishly, wondering why Hanta was packing.  
  


“Going somewhere?” Katsuki rasped out in as coherent a tone as he could muster.  
  


Hanta sat nervously on the edge of his bed, opening his mouth as though he were about to say something and closing it moments later. Katsuki gave him time, allowing himself a moment to yawn and stretch, waking up fully as he waited.  
  


“Did you feel anything?” Hanta asked suddenly. Katsuki shot him a tired blank look, to which Hanta clarified, “When we kissed. Did you feel anything?”  
  


Katsuki thought back to the other night. Being around Hanta—it just felt right, in a way that it didn’t with Eijiro, or Izuku, or any of the other Elite. He’d thought kissing him would help him understand, but all it did was leave him floundering for more answers that he didn’t know how to find.  
  


“. . . No,” Katsuki admitted, narrowing his eyes. “Not a thing.”  
  


Hanta sighed, brushing a hand through his newly cut raven locks. “I figured as much. I didn’t either—it just, didn’t click.” He explained, summing up Katsuki’s feelings nearly exactly. “In stories, people talk about overwhelming warmth and affection and fireworks and butterflies—but I don’t get that with you, man. You’re great—but I don’t think we work out that way.”  
  


“So you’re leaving?”  
  


Hanta shrugged, looking surprisingly put-out at the suggestion. “The Selection’s gotta end sometime. I want to be here, but I know it’s unfair of me to stay.”  
  


Katsuki could understand that much. He hadn’t wanted Hanta to leave, and even done as much as eliminated Momo to ensure his stay at the palace. But—all good things must come to an end, and Hanta’s time at the palace had just run out.  
  


Katsuki was sure he’d miss him when he left, there was no doubt in his mind about it. But—Katsuki was surprised to realize he _wanted_ to find love. And keeping around those that weren’t truly in love with him—minus Shoto, who Katsuki didn’t have the heart to send home any time soon because of Enji—would only slow down the process. Momo had been an inevitable loss, and Hanta was, too. An inevitable loss, as well as a necessary one.  
  


“Okay,” Katsuki agreed, standing up and retrieving Hanta’s bag with little fanfare. “I’ll help you pack.”

* * *

Mitsuki was loathe to allow Inko’s deadbeat husband into her home, but did so when her best friend shot her the puppy eyes. She’d seen Izuku shooting Katsuki the same look on multiple occasions, and realized it must’ve run in the family—just like the Bakugou’s being naturally susceptive to it.  
  


“Fine,” Mitsuki conceded, although begrudgingly. “He can stay. But I don’t trust him in the slightest.”  
  


Masaru had easily went along with her distaste, agreeing with her mildly whenever she went on one of her rants. He seemed to grow a lot fonder of Hisashi upon the discovery that he was Akuyakuan nobility, though Mitsuki didn’t buy the act for one minute.  
  


She couldn’t deny, though, his injury being bad—it was positively _horrible_ to look at. She’d been originally inclined to believe him after seeing the sorry state of his face, but couldn’t work her way around the sugary sweet falsities of his tone. Mitsuki could easily recognize lying for what it was, and hell if she was going to ignore it.  
  


Masaru had been the on to suggest Hisashi stay for an extended period of time, to go over negotiations. Mitsuki had refuted the suggestion by soundly reminding them that that was what they had Dabi, Toga and Twice for—though he refused to see reason. Hisashi fell even further up on the food chain, for reasons Mitsuki couldn’t decipher—supposedly, he had been a proud Shizuokan citizen but miraculously managed to find himself in a high position of power in another Kingdom entirely? Yeah—she didn’t buy it.  
  


“He can’t be trusted!” Mitsuki shouted for what felt like the umpteenth time at her unflinching husband.  
  


He stared her down with that soft gaze of his that could melt even the coldest of hearts and the most patient smile. “War isn’t an option, Mitsuki. You know this.”  
  


And fuck him for reminding her—she was stressed enough as it is. It was bad enough she’d taken to taking her anger out on Katsuki—Katsuki, who definitely didn’t deserve any of the shit she and Masaru had been putting him through lately. She could tell it was getting to him, but she didn’t have any other outlet for her stress and things tended to bottle up and explode quicker than she expected.  
  


Katsuki would explode right back—he was born with tough skin, and Mitsuki knew it. He was just like her, and she got the feeling he bottled all of his shit up, too. With every quip and insult she hurled his way, he’d come right back at her with one worse than the last.  
  


Masaru—kind, patient Masaru—would always intervene, stepping in between them as though they weren’t both ticking time bombs just waiting for a chance to explode. He could use his words to soothe and loosen the tension in ways Mitsuki never could, reminding her why she fell in love with him all over again.  
  


Mitsuki could figure how Inko had fallen for Hisashi quickly enough, too. He was a charmer by nature, with a smooth, languid voice. He always said exactly what you wanted to hear, when you wanted to hear it. Whenever he spoke, Mitsuki found herself listening intently, hanging onto his every word. It was a habit she was trying to drop, and one Inko probably hadn’t even noticed.  
  


“You don’t like me much, do you?” Hisashi asked in that low baritone of his. He made it a point to cut right to the chase with her, rather than tiptoeing around topics before cutting into the heart of them. “I can’t fathom why.”  
  


“I don’t trust you,” Mitsuki soundly refuted, and she didn’t. She didn’t trust Hisashi’s intentions with Inko, or Izuku for that matter. She found it awfully convenient he turned up when Izuku _happened_ to be at the _palace_ of all places. Mitsuki knew Akuyaku had something planned against them, and she had the distinct feeling that Hisashi fit somewhere in there. “I don’t trust any of you Akuyakuans. You’ve got something up your sleeve, I can just feel it.”  
  


Hisashi smiled in that painfully innocent way that made Mitsuki want to punch his teeth in. He carefully fixed his mask back on, and donned his robes. He left without a word, the door clicking shut nearly silently behind him.  
  


Mitsuki had a feeling he took to keeping his helmet off around her and Masaru to earn sympathy points from them—and Mitsuki wasn’t buying it for a moment. Inko might be all gooey-eyed over her long lost husband who’d finally returned at last, but Mitsuki just wished he’d stayed gone.  
  


Hisashi was not a man to be trusted. In due time, they’d _all_ realize that.

* * *

Toga weaved a knife between her fingers, gently spinning it with a practiced ease. It was gift from Sensei—they’d all gotten one, in fact. For their ‘ _hard work and promising results_ ’, he’d said.  
  


Toga beamed.  
  


“What’re you doing back, Sensei?” She’d asked before, graciously accepting the knife and testing it out with a few smooth flick of her wrists. It fit in her palm like a charm, as though it was specially built just for her. “I know you’re outta jail now, but why’d you come here?”  
  


“To oversee you three,” he explained in a patient, controlled tone. Toga normally woulda felt pretty weird over someone feeling the need to specifically watch over her—she could handle herself just fine—but when Sensei said it, it just felt different. “In my absence, I’m sure my and Tomura’s plans may have gotten a little . . . muddled.”  
  


“Shouldn’t you learn to trust him more?” Dabi asked, in that carelessly nonchalant tone that Toga could never dream of passing off, especially not around Sensei. She worshipped the man—they all did, and Dabi did, too. He was just better at hiding it. “You’re not always gonna be there, y’know. What happens when you’re gone and he’s in charge?”  
  


“That’s what Kurogiri is there for, of course,” Sensei reminded them. Toga really like Kurogiri—he was nice and made her lots of fruity smoothies. “Tomura knows well enough to listen to him once I’m gone. Hopefully, that won’t be for a while.”  
  


“Ban’no’s out for your head, though,” Dabi reminded in a cool tone. “The King over there’s got it out for you—the hell you’d do to him, anyways?”  
  


A small shift of his mask indicated Sensei was smiling—at what, Toga didn’t know, but it made her smile, too.  
  


“It’s a long, complicated story,” Sensei replied ominously. Dabi didn’t press, and Sensei didn’t say anything else.  
  


“Is Izuku your actual son?” Toga asked because—well, it was important to her. Anything regarding Izuku was important to her.  
  


“He is,” Sensei confirmed in a warm tone that made Toga think he wasn’t faking his relationship with Izuku and his mom as much as they’d originally thought.  
  


“He’s real pretty,” Toga said, blushing at the memory of his smile. “You musta had nice genes before you’re accident.”  
  


Twice didn’t bother concealing his boisterous laugh, and it was a sound Toga wanted to hear more often. Twice was so much fun, albeit kinda confusing. A moment later, he was raising a hand to his masked lips—a gift from Sensei, his mask—and suppressing his obnoxious laughter. Toga wished he wouldn’t.  
  


“Toga,” Dabi said, a slight warning in his often mild voice. Toga deigned to ignore the unsaid warning, twirling her knife and catching it by the hilt all in one fluid movement, and unsaid challenge ringing in the air.  
  


“Its fine,” Sensei reassured in that oh-so-kind way of his that made Toga trust him the first time they met and he offered her a warm place to stay, like no one had done before. “I take it as a compliment. Thank you, Himiko.”  
  


Toga preened at the sound of her given name, rubbing her thumb absent-mindedly against the jewel-encrusted hilt of her gifted knife—it felt so nice against her palm. She hadn’t had a knife in so long—it’d been confiscated from her before she came into the palace. Now, she felt more secure, holding it tightly in her palm like it’d been hers all along.  
  


“Of course, Sensei!” She chirped. “This knife is real nice, too, like Izuku. Very pretty.”  
  


“I’m glad you like it,” he replied with a slight dip of his head. It made Toga feel secure, too—that underlying trust he showed, by that simple gesture. “I hope all of you enjoy your gifts. I must, unfortunately, be off—I’ve promised Inko I’d have dinner with her tonight.”  
  


A twinge of jealousy rattled harshly in Toga’s chest. She didn’t much like Sensei wasting his time on others. Time and attention he could be using for _Toga_. It was a big reason she didn’t like Shigaraki, cuz Sensei favored him so much—that, and he acted younger than even Toga did.  
  


Sensei was gone just like that, leaving Toga in a room with Dabi and Twice. Twice was the one—always the one—to break the ice.  
  


“He’s so scary!” He shouted, burying his masked features in his hands. Toga imagined soft tufts of blonde hiding underneath the mask—kind features and pretty eyes. Twice was pretty, too—pretty like Izuku, or her knife. “Eh, he’s not that bad.”  
  


Toga giggled, a cutesy warm sound that made Twice’s features shift into a pretty smile. “You’re so funny, Jin! Let’s get ice cream.”  
  


His nose wrinkled, smile dropping. “No way, I _hate_ ice cream!” A moment later, he waddled over to her like a lost puppy, linking their arms. “Lead the way, wifey!”  
  


Toga liked it when he called her that. It made her feel all warm and gooey inside like she did when she looked at Izuku’s pretty face. She liked the feeling—a lot, which is why she found herself in Twice’s company so much.  
  


“Are you coming, Dabi?” Toga called in a sickeningly sweet, sing-song tone of voice.  
  


Dabi scowled at her, pushing off the table and walking right past them for the door. “I’m gonna go find Keigo. Later.”  
  


The door shut behind him with a loud slam, but Toga didn’t mind. She sidled up against Twice’s side, letting him lead the way through the halls because she knew it would make it take longer.  
  


She didn’t mind how distant Dabi always seemed towards them. He’d warm up to them—eventually.

* * *

Tenya came back the next morning at 8 am sharp—right as Miss Matsushita was flipping the ‘ _closed’_ sign to say _‘open’_. Tenya strode in less than a minute later, coming face-to-face with an unsurprised Miss Matsushita.  
  


“You’re here for the money?” She asked, walking towards the back to dig around for a minute.  
  


Tenya cleared his throat, “It _is_ rather urgent. The ring was real, correct?”  
  


“Yeah,” Matsushita confirmed, returning with what Tenya hoped was the money. He’d originally intended to return it to Hitoshi and Denki _yesterday_ , but a few extra hours hopefully wouldn’t change much.  
  


She handed off the yen—and god, was money _meant_ to be this heavy? There was so much—and flicked him on the forehead with a smile. “Feel free to come back sometime, Iida.”  
  


“How—how do you know my name?” He asked, quite frankly a little bewildered.  
  


“You were a member of the Selection, remember?” She reminded him with a cheeky smile. “Everyone knows your name.”  
  


“Oh,” Tenya said, feeling a pool of heat flare up in his cheeks. “Right. My bad.”  
  


“It’s fine,” she waved him off easily. “I guess you’re used to your parents getting most of the attention, right?”  
  


Tenya was glad for the fact that she hadn’t mentioned his brother. “Yeah,” he confirmed quietly. “Though they’re now expecting me to take over the family business someday.”  
  


Matsushita whistled lowly in the back of her throat. She casually propped her elbow against the counter, nearby where the cash-register sat.  
  


“Pretty big boots to fill, huh?” She asked conversationally. “I bet you can do it.”  
  


“I’m not so sure,” Tenya quipped earnestly. “But—my fiancé will help. I think she’ll be great at running a business.”  
  


“Fiancé, huh? Lucky girl—and I’ll bet lucky you, too.” Matsushita winked.  
  


“It’s Mei—Hatsume,” Tenya said. “From the Selection as well.”  
  


“Seems like a pretty common theme,” Matsushita commented lightly.  
  


“What is?” He asked because he didn’t—he wasn’t sure what she meant, by that.  
  


“For some of the Selected to get together once they’ve left—or even before they’ve left, but hey, who am I to judge.” She held up her hands in a placating gesture at the indirect mention of Hitoshi and Denki. “I hear all sorts of gossip just from working here, even if I mostly keep to the back room. Mirio and Amajiki are getting married soon, too, and I heard something about Tokoyami and Shoji dating—ah, do you even remember Shoji?”  
  


“No,” Tenya affirmed. He could vaguely recall the name, but not from _where_ —perhaps they’d been eliminated early.  
  


“Figured,” Matsushita continued, “I didn’t recognize the name either. They were eliminated the first day—when the Prince took out ten people at once.”  
  


Tenya found himself leaning against the counter, getting too heavily entwined with the conversation. “That was a pretty terrifying moment—it could’ve been any one of us.”  
  


“How’d you get eliminated, anyways?”  
  


“Well—”  
  


Luckily, Tenya was saved from having to talk about his brother by the sound of the bell jingling enthusiastically, entailing someone’s entrance. Tenya turned to look at them and—they looked like an older, male version of Matsushita. So this must be her _dad_ , the one Tenya had originally been expecting to see.  
  


“G’morning, Etsuko,” the man greeted in a low, gruff tone. Tenya could only assume Etsuko to be Matsushita, because it definitely wasn’t _him_. “A guest already? We usually don’ get any business ‘til at least 10.”  
  


Matsushita smiled warmly at her father, “He’s just here to pick up something from yesterday.”  
  


“I should—” Tenya paused awkwardly to clear his throat, “I should be going. I actually have somewhere to be, but—it was nice talking with you Miss Matsushita. Perhaps I’ll come around again another time.”  
  


Matsushita smiled in that warm way she did for her dad. “I hope you do. Oh—and just call me Etsuko, or Etsu, I don’t mind the familiarity. _‘Miss’_ sounds so formal, right?”  
  


“Right,” Tenya agreed with a quick dip of his head. “Then, I find it only fair you call me Tenya. I will see you around Mi— _Etsuko_.”  
  


She smiled, eyes crinkling up at the edges around already formed lines that indicated she smiled a lot. “See you, Tenya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayy, Tenya made a new friend ^^ It wasn't really... planned but like- nothing ever is in this fic. I'm just kinda making it up as I go
> 
> Anyways--there's gonna be like kinda sorta spoilers for the most recent chapter of the manga, so stop reading at the "*" if you don't want to know: Toga is just,, I love her. And i like writing her character too cuz she's kinda spacy sometimes and thinks a lot of things are pretty, but she can be serious when the situation calls for it. *One line from the manga's most recent chapter just broke my heart, and it went along the lines of "Heroes are supposed to help people.. so does that mean Jin wasn't a person?" And then she said something about wondering if that meant they were gonna kill her too and it just---ahHhh it hit me right in the feels.
> 
> Here's the list of the remaining Elite--it's six now, even though Sero hasn't left the palace, he's still kinda dismissed himself so:  
> Kirishima Eijiro - Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku - Six  
> Todoroki Shoto - Two  
> Ashido Mina - Five  
> Monoma Neito - Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco - Seven
> 
> Anyways--next chapter will probably be another date? Maybe. Idk when I'm gonna have another elimination because I'm stuck between two people and on one hand, I ship one more than the other, but on the other hand, the one I don't really ship is probably more popular smh
> 
> So no eliminations til I sort that out, but next chapter will have another date, yeah, and like maybe some dabihawks? I haven't visited those two in a hot minute, and I'd also like to see more of the Todoroki siblings interacting but also just Fuyumi's pov cuz she's amazing
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see all of you lovely readers on Tuesday ;P
> 
> (P.S. I haven't said this in a while, but I'm still always taking suggestions for dates)


	55. Next Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some bakudeku fluff for the soul
> 
> Enjoy!

“What the hell happened to your face?”  
  


“Wow, what a charmer,” Keigo quipped back, sitting next to Dabi on the gardens water fountain. He could hear streams of water jetting out smoothly behind him, splashing against the already filled fountain. “I find myself falling for you more and more every day.”  
  


Dabi shoulder-checked him gently, scowling in a way Keigo knew meant he was only trying to seem annoyed. “Shut up. Seriously, though, what’s that shit around your eyes?”  
  


“ _That shit_ you’re referring to is called _eyeliner_. You’re emo. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it.”  
  


“I’m _not_ emo,” Dabi fought back fruitlessly—he totally was. “And it looks weird. You look like a—a fucking _bird_.”  
  


“Birds are adorable!” Keigo huffed, crossing his arms. “That’s not what I came out here to talk to you about, you know.”  
  


“Then what was it?” Dabi asked, mimicking Keigo’s position.  
  


“I’m getting older, you know,” Keigo pointed out, tone taking on a much more serious edge. “The Queen’s expecting me to be married any day, now. I was adamant about marrying for love, which she agreed to, but she sent me a letter the other day saying if I didn’t make up my mind soon, she’d decide on a bride for me.”  
  


“Why the rush?” Dabi asked, ignoring the pit of jealousy rumbling in his chest at the thought of Keigo marrying some random woman.  
  


“She wants me to marry before I take on the throne. Its tradition,” he clarified. “But—well, she’s getting kinda old, y’know? I was expected to take the throne like five years ago but no one’s really caught my eye—‘til you.”  
  


Dabi was silent for a long moment. Keigo fidgeted, waiting for an answer—some sort of response to indicate how Dabi felt on the matter.  
  


Of course, given the choice, Keigo would marry Dabi—but it wasn’t all that simple. Dabi had been sent here to marry _Katsuki_ , and proposing to him now seemed a little counterproductive to his goal. But—Keigo didn’t _want_ Dabi to marry Katsuki, nor did Dabi want to marry him either.  
  


“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Dabi replied in a quiet voice, nervously picking at his scarred skin. Keigo slapped his hand away, but otherwise kept perfectly silent, patient. “I love you, and we haven’t exactly been shy about our relationship. But—Sensei saved my life, and he asked this of me. I don’t know how I could say _no_ to that, but I don’t want to have to say no to you, either.”  
  


“I understand,” Keigo said, because he did. He wasn’t Dabi to get down on one knee and profess his undying love, as much as he’d dreamt of that being the case. Dabi had his duties, and Keigo had his, and that much he could understand. “But, if Prince Bakugou _doesn’t_ choose you?”  
  


Dabi took Keigo’s hand, rough patches of scarred skin warm against Keigo’s calloused palm. Dabi looked at him then—with those starry eyes and that soft, earnest smile he didn’t share with anyone else, really, and Keigo felt himself falling all over again.  
  


He didn’t want to have to lose this, because nothing could compare to the last few months him and Dabi had shared. Every breath, every heartbeat, every _moment_ was magic, and Keigo never wanted the spell to break.  
  


Maybe it was selfish of him—to want this. To want Dabi, all to himself, even when he knew that Dabi’s loyalties remained with Akuyaku, and especially to this _‘Sensei’_ person that Keigo didn’t know the first thing about but was eternally grateful to because he brought _this man_ to Keigo.  
  


Bit by bit, Dabi’s walls had come crumbling down, and Keigo was the first to see the real him—to see past the façade that was Dabi, and look past to find _Touya_. Keigo loved every bit of the man that Dabi—Touya—was.  
  


And Dabi—  
  


“Then I’m all yours.”

* * *

Momo couldn’t describe in words the rush she’d felt during her first day working at Endeavor Industries.  
  


Enji himself was stationed at a different building, meaning Momo didn’t even have to see the man. She answered directly to Moe, and that was perfectly fine by her.  
  


Moe was strict, that much was certain, but she got the job done and she did it well. Luckily, Momo had always been a quick learner, and picked up on aspects of the job she’d never even considered before within the hour. Moe pretended to be indifferent, but Momo could tell by the slight gleam in her eyes and the minute upward curve of her lips that she was pleased.  
  


A surge of pride welled up in Momo’s chest at the notion. She liked being good at things—it was what she’d prided herself on most of her life. Whatever she did, she did good and practiced and practiced and practiced ‘til her skill sets on the task met up to near utter perfection.  
  


She did that with this job, too, fueled by a burning passion to succeed. Momo had never felt that during her extensive albeit short-lived modeling career. She worked from photo-shoot to photo-shoot, never finding the job to be anything but that—a job.  
  


This was something new, something exciting. She loved working business, and found she easily excelled at it. Momo may hate the man running the business, but she couldn’t find it in herself to say she hated the job—because she didn’t. She _loved_ it.  
  


Momo retold every little detail to Kyoka, filling up page after page with her letters, stuffing the envelope to the brim. Replies would come flooding in after only a day or two of being sent, by which Momo would already have at least three new letters drafted, because there was just so _much_ to talk about.  
  


Despite now living alone, and working a job that took up basically all of her free time—the rest being spent mostly communicating with Kyoka or catching up on sleep—Momo never felt lonely. She had Kyoka, and soon she’d get to move in with her and see the rest of the Elite, as well as the palace staff and Katsuki.  
  


She had her coworkers, too—the good and the bad. She could still remember Kairi coming up to her desk one morning with a welcome basket and an offer for her to join her and some other girls at the workplace for dinner that Sunday. Momo had graciously accepted, glad for the chance to make friends.  
  


More so than that she remember Kikotei coming right up to her desk and saying; “So you’re the wittle newbie who thinks she’s hot shit, huh?”  
  


Momo had ruefully ignored him, and he’d pursued in trying to make her life at work a living hell since. Momo deigned to be the bigger person in that situation, responding in curt, polite phrases to his many quips and insults. Momo was sure he only felt threatened by her—for reasons that were unclear to her. She’s only 19, and brand new to the job. She may be pretty good, but she was expecting several more years of experience on her end before any sort of promotions or raises.  
  


Kairi warned her that Kikotei was like that everyone in the office, pretty much, which made Momo feel a lot less singled out. She could handle an asshole or two, especially since a vast majority of her new coworkers were delightful to be around, if not a bit competitive—in a perfectly healthy way, Momo decided.  
  


“Missus Moe’s super strict all the time, but if you’ve lasted this long, you’ve got nothing to worry about!” Kairi informed in a boisterous tone. “She’ll be pretty lenient when you make a mistake—s’long as it doesn’t happen often. One girl—I remember she’d been working here for a good three years ‘til god knows what happened to her. I dunno what she did—company’s been keeping it hush-hush for as long as I can remember—but she got the sack for it. I wish I knew, so I could avoid making the same mistake. Had something to do with the boss.”  
  


“You mean Moe?” Momo clarified, “Or Todoroki?”  
  


“Todoroki,” Kairi confirmed with a shake of her head. “I’ve got a nasty feeling ‘bout that man—but, hey, a job’s a job. And this one pays hella well, so who am I to pass it up?”  
  


“Does Todor—er, the boss, ever come by?” Momo asked, because she wasn’t sure. The only time she’d seen the man was during Valentine’s Day, and otherwise he’d kept mostly to his hometown.  
  


“Not really.” Kairi shrugged, “But you met him, didn’t ya? At the palace?”  
  


“I did,” Momo confirmed, feeling oddly uncomfortable at the memory of the man. She’s glad Shoto isn’t still staying with that man. “He was kicked out of the palace.”  
  


Kairi gaped at her for a full minute before replying, “You’re kiddin’!”  
  


Momo shook her head silently.  
  


“Jeez,” Kairi said with a disbelieving shake of her head. “The hell he’d do to get kicked out? I’ve never been a big fan of him, but that seems kinda extreme, yeah?”  
  


Momo pursed her lips, looking around the mostly empty office for any prying ears. “He tried to hit one of the Elite. The Prince managed to stop him in time, but it was a close thing. I—well, I wasn’t there when it happened, actually, but I’ve heard about it from Shoto.”

“Well, fuck,” Kairi replied eloquently. “God—I’ve heard he had a temper, but, y’know, _hitting_ someone’s kid? I didn’t expect that. Makes me wonder about that boy of his—the apple don’t always fall too far from the tree, eh?”  
  


Momo shook her head fiercely, a blazing protectiveness swelling up in her chest at the thought of Shoto ever being compared to that vile man. Shoto hated his father as much as the next person, and probably more.  
  


“Shoto’s different,” Momo refuted firmly, a dangerous glint lurking in her eyes. “ _So_ much different.”  
  


Kairi raised her hands in a placating gesture, “If you say so. Not like I know him, besides.”  
  


She dropped it after that, and Momo was glad for the change in topic.  
  


Momo found herself a friend in Kairi, and an enemy in Kikotei, and reminded herself to tell Kyoka all about in her next letter.

* * *

The next time Ochaco went up to the roof, she found another person there—and it wasn’t Katsuki.  
  


She could vaguely make out wild hair and a lithe frame, and immediately thought of Izuku—but, no, those shoulders were far too thin to be his. As she creeped ever-so-silently closer, she could see a sliver of moonlight dancing across flaming trims of pink hair and slices of tan skin.  
  


“Mina,” Ochaco called out in a shockingly soft voice, announcing her immediate presence. Mina didn’t turn, only tilting her head in Ochaco’s direction to let her know she knew Ochaco was there.  
  


Ochaco approached with as much delicacy as she could manage, feet moving surprisingly light against the cold concrete of the roof. The wintry air whipped against her face, grounding her in a way that being inside the confining walls of the palace never could.  
  


She sat next to Mina, basking in the other girl’s presence. She enjoyed being beside Katsuki, but this felt nice in a different way that it didn’t with him but she still found she didn’t mind.  
  


“What’re you doing up here?” Mina asked in a low voice, softer than Ochaco was used to hearing from her. Mina was always talking, moving, going—she never stopped, and it was something Ochaco admired about her. But now, she seemed so subdued. Wrapped up in an oversized sweater and shivering, drooped over herself with her chin leaning against her knees.  
  


Ochaco felt the sudden urge to hug her, and so she did. She could feel how cold Mina was beneath her—Ochaco noticed then she was only wearing a thin nightgown beneath her sweater. She was shaking from head-to-toe, easily leaning in to the warmth Ochaco provided.  
  


“I come up here every night,” Ochaco responded, wrapping a comforting arm around her friend’s shoulders. Mina leaned into her side more, and it was then that Ochaco noticed the dried tear tracks slipping down her cheeks. So she’d been crying. “You?”  
  


“Nightmare,” Mina said in a voice filled with more emotions that Ochaco could even begin to comprehend. She wanted to ask, but before she could, Mina answered her unspoken questions, “They were about _him_.”  
  


Ochaco didn’t need to ask this time to know she meant Denki. It had been an unspoken thing among the Selected not to talk about either him or Hitoshi, after what had happened. None of them had quite gotten over it, but Mina, Eijiro, Hanta, Katsuki and Kyoka had been hit the hardest by it. At least they’d had each other. Ochaco wondered sometimes how Denki and Hitoshi were faring with them against the world, living in a society that hates them for something as simple as love. She hopes they’re doing well.  
  


“He’s fine, I’m sure,” Ochaco tried her best to sound reassuring, and was rewarded a weak smile in return. “He’s strong. They both are.”  
  


“I know he’s fine,” Mina replied in that terribly frail voice that Ochaco couldn’t bear to hear from her. She tucked Mina closer to her chest, wrapping herself around the girl in as close of an embrace as she could manage. It’s what her mom used to do to her when she was younger, and even as she grew older, to comfort her. “I know it. But, I just—that day . . . I can still remember it so vividly. The way he looked, it just, it tore my heart to bits. Every time I close my eyes, I see him. I can still smell the blood. It’s—it’s so much. And I hate that I’m not over it, yet, because it’s been more than a month and I feel like I’m being, like, weak, or something. Is it supposed to hurt this much, even when I know he’s okay?”  
  


Ochaco was no expert, but she knew Mina wasn’t alone. Ochaco hadn’t been all that close to either Denki or Hitoshi, but even _she_ still got the occasional nightmare. They’d all had to sit through the events that had transpired that night, and Ochaco figured it would be something they’d _never_ forget, even when they’re old and frail and their memory is shot because it feels like that kind of moment in life, that you just can’t get rid of no matter how hard you try.  
  


Ochaco’s been woken up before by a knock on the door because Izuku’s outside crying about it. He’s a kind soul with a big heart, and spent every night for a week without sleep afterwards because he wanted to be there for them so bad, despite them not having been close beforehand.  
  


She couldn’t imagine how Mina was faring. Or Katsuki, or Kyoka or Eijiro or Hanta—or anyone close to any of them. However Ochaco was feeling, they must be feeling ten times worse, and she wouldn’t wish that on anyone.  
  


She tried especially hard not to think about how Hitoshi and Denki were feeling because that started up a fresh wave of tears that wouldn’t seem to leave her alone until she’d cried herself right to sleep.  
  


“I wish I could tell you it’s gonna stop,” Ochaco whispered, clutching Mina tightly in her warm hold and trying to seep every good memory she has into the depths of Mina’s mind and warm every crevice with joy to scare away all the despair that had crept in. “But I don’t think it will. We all suffered that day—not as much as Kaminari or Shinso, but we had to watch that and it’s not something easily forgotten. I—I didn’t really know them that well but I get nightmares sometimes, too, and I don’t know how you’re doing but I imagine it’s _so_ much worse and—and the best you can do is to surround yourself in joy. Suck out all the darkness and the bad by replacing them with happiness.”  
  


By now, Ochaco could feel a wet spot seeping into her shoulder from where Mina had her head resting, but Ochaco couldn’t find it in her to care. She just lifted a gentle hand to run through Mina’s hair in a soothing gesture she’d picked up from her dad.  
  


“You make me happy,” Mina replied after a solid ten minutes of nothing but sobbing. She sounded as tired as Ochaco imagined she might be, considering how much crying usually took out of a person. “You’re a really good friend. Eijiro and Hanta make me happy, too—and so does Bakugou. But . . . I’m scared to lose you guys like I lost him.”  
  


“You won’t,” Ochaco promised in a surprisingly strong tone. She sounded a lot more confident than she felt. “We’re not going anywhere. We’re always going to be right—” Ochaco pressed her index finger against Mina’s chest, feeling the soft _thump, thump_ of her pulse beneath, “—here.”  
  


Mina laughed, a deep, wet sound that filled Ochaco’s ears. It made her laugh, too, a full sound that filled the night air with a wonderful sensation. Soon they were both laughing from their bellies and rolling on the floor, limbs still caught up in each other’s in a gesture that made Ochaco feel warm all the way to the tips of her toes.  
  


When the laughter cleared up, it still rang loud and clear in the still of the night. The sky twinkled with intermingling stars, forming patterns and shapes that Ochaco was beginning to recognize on sight now with how often she came up here with Katsuki.  
  


She loved the stars—she remembered seeing them last time and thinking that it was what home felt like.  
  


“If you ever,” Ochaco began, voice hoarse from laughing and her stomach comfortably sore, “If you ever find yourself lost, or lose one of us—look up. At the stars.”  
  


And Mina did, buttery eyes shimmering with mirth in the twinkling stardust. The light reflected in her eyes in a beautiful display, pools of gold swimming in shimmering starlight."  
  


“We’ll always be there,” Ochaco promised, tone solemn but a smile adorning her features. She took Mina’s hand in hers, a promise lining every word dripping from her lips. “Whenever you need us, you can find us in the stars. They’re like home.”  
  


“Home,” Mina repeated, voice hushed and barely audible but Ochaco could read her lips well enough in the waning light to make out the word. “Okay. In the stars, it is.”  
  


“He’s up there, too.” Ochaco bumped their shoulders together, turning her gaze towards the inky expanse of night sky running above. “He’s looking down at you right now. Trust me.”  
  


“I trust you,” Mina agreed firmly, eyes fixated on the sky in a warm way that made Ochaco believe she really and truly meant what she’d said. She continued on, and it took Ochaco only a moment to realize these words weren’t meant for her.  
  


“Hey, Denki.”

* * *

Inko shared dinner with her husband that night.  
  


Their days together were fleeting, considering Hisashi was planning to stay at the palace longer than the usual three days expected for family members. She’d accepted his explanation without a fuss—she understood his devotion to Akuyaku, as well as wanting to get to know his son a bit better.  
  


Eri seemed especially hesitant around Hisashi, but Izuku absolutely adored the man. Whenever Inko wasn’t with Hisashi, Izuku was with him and sometimes Eri would join them though she seemed to have a couple reservations about being around the man.  
  


Inko didn’t ruminate too hard on it because her husband was back after a painful decade of being without him. Maybe more. The days had seemed to blend together once he’d gone.  
  


She’s glad to know he hadn’t left out of desire, but rather necessity. She wanted to ask how he’d gotten his scar but whenever she brought it up he avoided the subject, so Inko had the distinct feeling he didn’t want to talk about it. She was okay with that, because really she’s just glad he’s here.  
  


“You’re awfully quiet, tonight, my love,” he said in that soothing, lilting tone of his that made Inko practically melt in her seat. “Anything on your mind?”  
  


“I’m just going to miss you,” Inko whispered, pushing her food around her plate with her fork. Hisashi’s expression softened in a telling way that Inko could still discern past all the scarring.  
  


He reached out with a warm, comforting hand and gripped hers tightly, holding on like a lifeline. “I wish I didn’t have to leave you,” he said and his words felt like a promise. “But I have to stay. You know that.”  
  


“When will you be back?” She asked. It had been a question floating around her mind often—when would she finally get her husband to _herself_ again? A part of her mind whispered _‘never’_. It was a part of her that she pushed back further and further.  
  


His grip on her hand tightened, “As soon as I can, my love. I’m sorry I didn’t return sooner.”  
  


Inko jolted at that—because it wasn’t his fault. She didn’t what happened, or _why_ , but it did and Hisashi had needed time, energy and _money_ —something she didn’t have—to recover. She could understand why he’d left and why he’d stayed, and he’d returned in the end, hadn’t he? What was there to be upset over?  
  


“Don’t apologize!” She huffed, waving her free hand expressively. Hisashi smiled, still charming and beautiful after all these years. “You haven’t done anything wrong, dear. Just come back to me, alright?”  
  


Hisashi drug her hand up to his lips, brushing them gently across her knuckles in a gesture she remembered him doing often in the past to reassure her. Even now, years later, it still made her feel warm and safe.  
  


“I promise,” Hisashi whispered, lips brushing against the back of her still raised hand. “I promise I’ll return to you, my love.”  
  


And that was enough for Inko.

* * *

It took Izuku longer than he should’ve to realize he didn’t know how to ice skate.  
  


When Katsuki had proposed the idea, Izuku had been all for it without even considering the actual date proposition. Even now, with skates tied clumsily to his feet and bold sheets of ice laid out in front of him, it was only now Izuku was realizing he didn’t know what the hell he was doing.  
  


He was clumsy by nature, a fact that hadn’t gone unnoticed by most of the Selected, nor Katsuki. Ice skating and him didn’t seem like they’d get along, and Izuku was perfectly fine to avoid the sport. Until now, that is, because he couldn’t very well tell Katsuki he _couldn’t skate_ after the blonde had gone out of his way to spend time with Izuku.  
  


“What’s taking so long, nerd?” Katsuki asked, gliding past him on skates that fit over his feet like a second skin. Being on the ice looked as easy as breathing to him, and it helped to quench some of Izuku’s own anxiety. Maybe it wasn’t that bad?  
  


“Coming, Kacchan!” Izuku promised, grabbing the railing tight enough to turn his knuckles white. He dragged himself out onto the ice, hating the feeling of the uncomfortably slippery ice beneath his feet. His skates wobbled, but he made it onto the ice without much hassle.  
  


Katsuki kept on skating, looking backwards every now and then to make sure Izuku was keeping up. He wasn’t, but the greenette appreciated the sentiment. Katsuki skated literal circles around him, dancing across the ice like it was his home. Izuku found he didn’t necessarily need to use the wall to move, but his trek was slow and stiff without it.  
  


“Do you even know how to skate?” Katsuki mocked, stopping abruptly behind Izuku and scaring him thoroughly enough that he tripped. He caught himself with his hands, trying fruitlessly to push himself back to his feet without slipping. Izuku pointedly blocked out the sound of laughter behind him. “Jeez, you coulda said somethin’.”  
  


Katsuki grabbed Izuku’s outstretched hands, pulling him up. He didn’t let go even when they were standing, instead gently leading Izuku along the ice in slow, precise movements.  
  


“You’re fucking walking, stop that,” Katsuki scolded in a tone that screamed restraint. Izuku appreciated the effort, trying his hardest to copy Katsuki’s movements. “Yeah, that. _Stop it._ Don’t lift you’re foot, there’s no fucking point.”  
  


Izuku huffed, scuffing his skates against the ice in an effort to move forwards. He didn’t. He saw Katsuki’s feet stop moving, letting Izuku set the pace.  
  


After a while of trying and failing, Izuku finally managed to move himself forwards in stiff, choppy movements—but he wasn’t lifting his foot, so he considered it progress.  
  


“Okay, now,” Katsuki continued in what Izuku came to recognize quickly as his _‘teaching voice’_ , “Skate, _alone_ , to the other side of the rink and back. Easy.”  
  


“ _Not_ easy,” Izuku muttered, leaning against the rink’s wall heavily. He wasn’t sure about this—falling wasn’t fun and picking himself up again without landing in an even bigger heap than before was worse.  
  


Still, he tried, pushing off the wall with as much force as he could manage as a bit of a head start. It still only got him about an eighth of the way down the length of the rink, but it was something and something was better than nothing.  
  


He pushed off of his right leg, feeling the smooth and sharpened blade of his ice skates glide against the ice. His movements were still pretty choppy, but remarkably better than when he began.  
  


It only took him a little over a minute to skate the length of the rink, and even less time to make it back. Katsuki had that painfully blank look on his face, but Izuku could tell by the minute upwards curve of his lips that he was impressed.  
  


“Now do it five more times,” he instructed, and Izuku didn’t bother suppressing his groan.  
  


When they were done, Izuku was tired and felt a familiar ache in his muscles that he’d missed since coming to the palace. His workout regimen was absolutely wrecked—minus the occasional sparring he still did with Katsuki to learn basic martial arts and self-defense. Coming by just to ice skate didn’t sound like such a bad idea once and a while, especially if Katsuki would be his teacher. Any excuse to hang out with the blonde more sounded like a good idea to Izuku’s ears.  
  


“We should do this more often,” Izuku commented in a light, prospective tone. Katsuki hummed his acknowledgement, staring not at Izuku but instead at his skates. “What?”  
  


“Did you really have them on that fucking loose the whole time? Jesus fucking Christ, you coulda broken your fucking ankles, dumbass!” Katsuki scolded, slapping the back of Izuku’s head.  
  


Izuku rubbed the sore spot, “Really? I thought they _were_ kinda uncomfortable . . .”  
  


“Duh,” Katsuki replied, rolling his eyes. Izuku noticed the hints of a fond smirk peeking out, though, and counted it as a win nonetheless. “Next time don’t be so fucking stupid. Sheesh.”  
  


Izuku couldn’t help his cheeky smirk as he said; “Next time?”  
  


Izuku was too busy laughing to care when Katsuki pushed him right off the bench. When he sat back up, he bumped Katsuki’s shoulder, brushing his lips briefly against the blonde’s cheek before he could think better of it. He was sure his face was practically on fire, by now.  
  


“Well, uh,” he said nervously, avoiding meeting Katsuki’s eyes. They’d kissed _for real_ before, so what was he so nervous about anyways? “ThatwasloadsoffunKacchanweshoulddoitagainseey!”  
  


Katsuki grabbed his wrist before he could get too far, spinning Izuku around and right into a rough kiss. He felt their teeth clash together painfully, but it felt like magic with every searing touch.  
  


Katsuki pulled away a moment later, leaving a stunned Izuku in his wake. He turned on his heel and walked away, Izuku still standing awestruck behind him. They’d kissed before, but Izuku wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to the sensation.  
  


“If you’re gonna fucking kiss me,” Katsuki said without turning, “then do it fucking right, next time.”  
  


Once Katsuki was already gone—the door slamming shut behind his back in that oh-so-familiar manner that Izuku was growing to love—Izuku felt himself whisper, beneath his breath; “Next time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I love the Selection and it's one of my favorite book series right there next to like Harry Potter and Percy Jackson and all that, but I feel like... they all got over Marlee (basically Kaminari's counterpart from the original series) way too quickly for my taste. Like, America fought the guards tooth and nail to try and help her best friend who was being p u b l i c l y w h i p p e d and everyone except for Maxon acted like she was insane for it. Um?? Maybe I remember it wrongly, but I know that if that were my best friend up there, i'd be fighting tooth and nail, too. And I wouldn't forget about something like that so easily, so y e a h I'm making the effects of what happened long-lasting because, like, it just feels more.. realistic, to me.
> 
> Kay, rant over sorry. Anyways, just now realizing Mina and Uraraka are the only girls left in the Selection and a) I like lowkey love their friendship (in canon and in the fic) and b) us girls gotta stick together, yknow? So expect some more platonic ochamina in the future
> 
> Here's the list of the Elite (still undecided about who to eliminate next. It's gonna be one of them and then the other but I can't decide the order between the twooo smh):  
> Kirishima Eijiro - Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku - Six  
> Todoroki Shoto - Two  
> Ashido Mina - Five  
> Monoma Neito - Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco - Seven
> 
> Next chapter might be like, maybe another date? Maybe not? I'm definitely gonna write like some of the families leaving (probably just the Midoriyas and the Todorokis tbh) and like Fuyumi, Natsuo and Dabi all saying goodbye. That's all I've really got so far, so look forwards to that this Friday ;P See y'all then


	56. Nii-san

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eri is too good for this world
> 
> Enjoy!

Fuyumi stared at the gates, bags in hand, and an unsure, unfinished feeling clawing at her chest.  
  


She felt like there was more to do, here. More to say. She hadn’t spoken to Dabi— _Touya_ , a part of her hoped—since last time, and it was something she wished she’d had the courage to rectify.  
  


Instead, she packed her things without so much as a word breathed in his direction, and was preparing to leave with Natsuo right at her heels. Still, something felt incomplete. The feeling had been nagging at her all day, and Fuyumi was beyond sure it was because of Dabi.  
  


“You ready to go?” Natsuo asked, nudging her gently. He was smiling, but she could make out the tense lines of worry bunching up between his eyebrows. “You didn’t forget anything, did you?”  
  


Did she? It felt like she had, despite checking and re-checking her bags until she was _sure_ she hadn’t left anything behind. Still, something nagged at the back of her mind.  
  


“I think I did,” she whispered, voice hoarse. She cleared her throat, “We both did.” She corrected herself. “We need to go talk with To—Dabi. Yes, we need to talk with Dabi.”  
  


Natsuo looked as unsure as Fuyumi felt. A part of her wished she could just forget about everything they’d discussed with their maybe-brother and move on, but she knew it wasn’t that simple. She cared for Touya—and if he was back, who was she to pass up the chance to reconnect?  
  


She worried, though, that he wasn’t the same Touya she’d grown up with loving. Touya had been her best friend all throughout her childhood. They’d practically raised Natsuo together when father didn’t bother, and mother grew too sick and busy with trying to protect Shoto.  
  


“Are you sure?” Natsuo asked.  
  


She wasn’t, but Fuyumi felt like she _needed_ to be.  
  


“Yes.”

So they went. They hefted their things back over their shoulders and walked right back the path they’d left through. Fuyumi could still remember exactly where Dabi’s room was. When that proved unsuccessful, so she tried Keigo’s and then one place after the next until they reached the gardens.  
  


He was there, with both Shoto and Keigo flanking either side of him. His and Keigo’s fingers were carefully intertwined in a way that seemed natural to them. Fuyumi wondered how long they’d been together. She wondered a lot of things about Dabi.  
  


She hated how much time she’d missed with her brother.  
  


“Fuyumi. Natsuo.” Shoto bowed his head in greeting. If he seemed shocked by their appearance there after they’d already said their goodbyes to him, he didn’t show it. His expression was carefully impassive, as always.  
  


“We came to speak to Dabi,” Natsuo said because he was always the braver of the two of them. Fuyumi felt a sort of longing when she looked at Dabi. Because, looking at him like this, she wondered how she ever could’ve doubted that this was him. Touya. “Can we have some, um, privacy?”  
  


Keigo held his hands up, smiling tersely, “Alright, alright, I’ll go. Private-family-talk-time, I get it.”  
  


He left without another word, pressing a chaste kiss against Dabi’s lips before disappearing through the maze of greenery. It left Fuyumi and Natsuo alone on one side with Shoto and Dabi on the other. Shoto was looking between his siblings in mild confusion, one foot turned away as if he wasn’t sure whether he was wanted or not.  
  


“Stay, Shoto,” Fuyumi said in a quiet voice. Shoto nodded wordlessly, moving ever-so-slightly closer to Dabi’s side. “As you may already know . . . we’re leaving.”  
  


“Yeah,” Dabi said, voice equally quiet. “I know.”  
  


Silence hung over them like a thick blanket. It permeated the air in an aura of awkwardness that Fuyumi didn’t know how to shake off. This was _Touya_. It shouldn’t feel _awkward_ around him, but it did and she didn’t have a clue how to change that.  
  


“Are you ever coming home?” Natsuo asked in a voice too quiet for his loud presence. It made Fuyumi shiver to hear her brother sound so small. She was used to it from Shoto, because he’d always hated drawing attention to himself. From Natsuo, it was strange, and she hated how quickly things were changing. “To us?”  
  


“To _him_?” Dabi corrected in a tone that screamed the answer wouldn’t be something they liked. “No. I’m not. I’m not going anywhere near that bastard ever again.”  
  


“Will you visit?” Fuyumi tacked on. She could understand him wanting to keep away—a part of her always wanted to run away, too, and live free from Enji’s wrath.  
  


Dabi was silent for a long time. He seemed contemplative, which Fuyumi supposed was better than an immediate no.  
  


“I’ll try,” he decided after a solid minute of ruminating. Fuyumi nodded, not completely satisfied with the answer but not upset either, because she understood where he was coming from. “I’ve already promised myself to Keigo, if he wants me. I might be moving to Fukuoka.”  
  


_That_ was news to Fuyumi. The thought of him being so _far_ hit her with the force of a bullet train. He’d still be there—but Fukuoka was on the other side of the continent. Visits would be few and far between if he moved there, if ever.  
  


“I’ll try,” Dabi repeated in a firmer tone. “That’s as much as I can say, now. I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”  
  


And Fuyumi was okay with that. She wasn’t happy about it, but like with everything else Dabi did, she _understood_. Her and Natsuo left soon after that, the feeling of something left unfinished never truly dying away, but instead chipping off in small increments bit by bit and she watched the palace grow smaller and smaller in the distance.

* * *

Eri didn’t want to go.  
  


She liked Inko—she was warm and nice and made really good food. Izuku was even better, though, because he was the first one to ever care about her. He visited her several times a week, even when Eri couldn’t even muster up the courage to so much as talk to him. She’d been pathetic back then, but Izuku kept showing up and Eri loved him for it.  
  


She didn’t want to go, though, because going meant leaving Izuku behind again and Eri didn’t want that. She wanted to stay here with him and his warm hugs and bedtime stories. Eri liked it when he’d tuck her into bed at night with a fond kiss to her forehead. She liked the way he smiled when she called him _“nii-san”_. She liked all of his smiles, really, but that one especially.  
  


The only plus she saw to her and Inko leaving was getting away from Hisashi. Eri didn’t like Hisashi, because he made her think of Chisaki, and she hadn’t thought of him in years. Not since Izuku’s kind eyes and brilliant smiles had become a regular part of her life, and she hated being reminded of that time in her life where she’d had to live with Chisaki.  
  


They sounded the same, to her. They had this controlling, deceptive air around them that Eri hated even if she knew Hisashi would never raise a hand to Izuku the way Chisaki had to her. She didn’t tell Izuku about how she felt, though, because he was so happy when Hisashi came that she didn’t have the heart to tell him he seemed like a bad man.  
  


Maybe she was mistaken. Izuku was so bright and happy and Eri was so scared all the time. There’s no way Hisashi and Chisaki could be the same, but she worried. Because Izuku was her nii-san and she’d always put him first.  
  


“Nii-san,” she’d pleaded with a desperate tone, clinging to Izuku’s chest like a lifeline. He combed a caring hand through her hair, and she melted into the touch. “Be careful.”  
  


“I will,” Izuku had promised.  
  


He’d kissed her tenderly on the crown of her forehead before she went. Eri sobbed the whole way there, tucked into Inko’s side. She smelled like Izuku, and it only made Eri cry harder. She wanted to go back. Three days hadn’t been nearly enough time to be with him.  
  


“You can write to him,” Inko suggested with a soft smile once they’d gotten back home. Eri had wrapped herself up in Izuku’s sheets, missing him. But he’d been gone for so long and the sheets had already lost his scent. “We can write him a letter together, if you want!”  
  


Eri did want, so that night Eri sat with Inko in the small kitchen and wrote Izuku a letter. Inko made a separate one for Hisashi that Eri pointedly did not participate in. She picked up a small sheet of paper, and the pen Inko had been using and started to draw. She drew the first thing that came to her mind—Izuku. Beside him, she drew Inko and then eventually herself.  
  


She didn’t draw Hisashi, though. Just the three of them, standing on a meadow of grass, bathed in warm sunlit tones. It looked rudimentary, at best, but Eri knew Izuku would love because _she’d_ made it, and it brought a soft smile to her face. Eri didn’t know when she’d started to smile again, but she knew for a fact it wasn’t until Izuku had come along.  
  


“That’s a beautiful drawing, Eri,” Inko commended. She picked it up, folding it neatly in time with the letter they’d written together, as well as the letter for Hisashi. She slipped them into a waiting envelope, and sealed it with practiced hands. “I’ll mail it out tomorrow. Want to come?”  
  


Eri nodded.  
  


They received a letter back within three days. There were three pages inside again—one letter from Izuku and one from Hisashi. And, to Eri’s pleasant surprise, a drawing of the three of them on the same grassy meadow as last time. Except this drawing was much better than hers, and more detailed. She loved it.  
  


Eri held the drawing close to her chest. She hung it up in Izuku’s room after dinner. When she found herself unable to sleep that night, she clicked on the lights and stared at the drawing of their rag-tag family.  
  


She fell into a dreamless sleep minutes later, thoughts of her nii-san on her mind to soothe her into the yielding void of unconsciousness.

* * *

Hitoshi was hungry, but he was starting to adjust to the familiar sensation. He could hear Denki’s stomach from here, but the blonde didn’t say a word. Hitoshi admired him for his courage, but also worried. Denki would soundly refuse any extra portions, no matter how many times Hitoshi asked. He had the sinking feeling that Denki had even been sneaking _Hitoshi_ extra food from his own rations when he wasn’t looking.  
  


Luckily, Tenya came by with a briefcase full of cash and no ring. Hitoshi nearly fainted at the sight.  
  


“Really? All this?” Denki asked, voice faint. He looked pale, and Hitoshi wasn’t sure if that was from shock or malnutrition. “Thanks so much, Iida! You’re a lifesaver.”  
  


Tenya waved him off, shutting the briefcase with a sound _click_ and handing it over. Hitoshi held onto it like a lifeline, determined not to lose this valuable item, too.  
  


“It’s no issue, really,” he said in that overly curt tone he always used. Hitoshi would’ve told him he didn’t have to be so formal, but he was really learning to just expect it at this point. “I’m happy to help!”  
  


Denki grinned a million-watt smile that made Hitoshi feel like he was glowing, even if it weren’t directed at him. “Let us know if there’s any way we can return the favor.”  
  


Tenya shook his head, “The only thing I could ask of you two is that you come to my and Mei’s wedding! You’re both gladly welcomed, of course.”  
  


Hitoshi and Denki shared a skeptical look. “Listen . . .” Hitoshi began hesitantly, “we’d really love to come but . . . man, we look like shit. Are you sure you’d want us there?”  
  


“Nonsense!” Tenya refuted immediately, chopping his hand in a wild motion that had both Hitoshi and Denki dodging out of the way. “I do not mind either way! If it makes you self-conscious, you’re welcome to bathe at my place and borrow two suits if need be!”  
  


“You’re too nice, man,” Denki said with a warm grin. “I think we’ll take you up on that. It’s been way too long since I’ve bathed.”  
  


Tenya, to his credit, didn’t seem bothered by this revelation in the slightest. “I’ll share the date when I can!”  
  


“Awesome!”  
  


“Cool.”  
  


They parted ways not long after that, after dutifully promising that Tenya and Mei would be the first ones to see their new house, if either Nemuri, Mina, Eijiro or Aizawa didn’t beat them to it.  
  


Hitoshi opened the briefcase one more time to look at all their newly earned cash. He still couldn’t believe how much was in there. It was definitely enough for them to buy both of their way up a caste, and to get them slightly on their feet. A real house will come with time and savings, but Hitoshi had been expecting that much.  
  


“Hey,” Denki said abruptly. Hitoshi snapped the briefcase shut in surprise, turning to face his fiancé once he’d calmed his racing heart.  
  


“Yeah?”  
  


“Can Eights marry up the castes?” Denki asked, a carefully curious look etched into his features.  
  


It got Hitoshi thinking, too. He didn’t see why not—other castes could marry up. He figured he probably hadn’t heard of it happening before mostly because no one _wanted_ to marry an Eight.  
  


“I don’t know,” Hitoshi responded earnestly. “Why do you ask?”  
  


Denki was silent for a long few minutes while he stewed in thought. Hitoshi had a feeling he knew where this conversation was going, and he felt like he was definitely going to like it. Denki seemed kind of shallow on the surface, but when given time to really _think_ on something, he’d always managed to come up with the best ideas.  
  


“With this money . . .” he began, words soft and slow, “one of us could buy our way up to being a Six. And then if we got married . . .”  
  


“Denki.” Hitoshi said, leaning forwards to kiss his fiancé fiercely and lovingly. He grinned maniacally as he pulled back, warm hands still caressing Denki’s cheekbone. “You’re a _genius_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just- I love the idea of Eri calling Izuku nii-san. it's too precious
> 
> Sooo last chapter I might've mentioned a date? But I scrapped that idea this chapter- sorry! I just wasn't really feeling it this time around
> 
> Here's the list of the Elite, plus their castes:  
> Kirishima Eijiro - Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku - Six  
> Todoroki Shoto - Two  
> Ashido Mina - Five  
> Monoma Neito - Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco - Seven
> 
> So, as far as eliminations go, I'm going to have everyone having a one-on-one date and then a group date with Katsuki plus all of the Elite. _Then_ I'll write the elimination (if I can decide who I want to eliminate. I hate my indecisiveness)
> 
> Next chapter will definitely have a date this chapter was lacking, so look forwards to that! It'll be out on Tuesday <3


	57. Never Been Kissed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who has seen Glee (and if you haven't, I s e r i o u s l y recommend it) the chapter title is a throwback to season two, in the episode where kurt and blaine meet (though this chapter's plot has like nothing to do with that episode, I just couldn't stop thinking about it as I was writing this)
> 
> I went a l i t t l e overboard with this chapter. Personally, I love this ship- even if its a rarepair
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (P.S. does anyone have any name suggestions for a black cat with green eyes? It's for another bnha fic I'm currently working on ^^)

When Mina had been told along the grapevine by Aizawa that she had an upcoming date with Katsuki, the last thing she expected him them to do was going _fishing_. Mina wasn’t _entirely_ opposed, though—more shocked than anything. It seemed so _basic_ , in comparison to both the scavenger hunt and absolutely ruining each other’s complexion with an excessive amount of makeup.  
  


She wondered how they’d even be able to _go_ fishing with the weather in the state it’s in. It was still late February, and the temperature often fell in the low 30’s range. Not _terrible_ , but a little nippy for Mina’s tastes.  
  


Luckily, Katsuki had had the foresight to plan around this. They’d be heading a few towns up south, meaning Mina would not only get a few solid hours on the lake with him, but also the carriage ride there and back. It sounded like a pretty sweet deal to her, even if fishing made her want to claw her own eyes out from boredom on the best of days.  
  


She’d been fishing with friends before, but only as few as times as she could manage. Any other time, she weaved a complicated web of excuses that she knew no one else bought, but went along with anyways.  
  


Mina had pretty much avoided fishing since she’d gone on a double date with her best friend’s boyfriend and his cousin. Her own date had completely missed the water when he cast out the fishing pole, nearly impaling a fish-hook sized hole in her head. Ever since, she hadn’t been particularly inclined to meet up with him, or go anywhere near a fishing rod.  
  


She had a lot more faith in Katsuki, though. As far as she’d seen, his hand-eye-coordination was a _lot_ better than her old date’s had been. Maybe _he’d_ actually manage to get his rod in the water, and not in her _skull_.  
  


So she sucked up her apprehensiveness, and got ready. She once again found herself thanking herself for keeping her hair short, and ultimately easy to manage. It was a fruitless mess of curls most days, but Mina knew well enough by now how to style it to make it work just right.  
  


Mina was sure to put on clothes she didn’t mind getting wet. Fishing wasn’t a particularly rigorous activity, but no one was safe in a boat alone with Katsuki. Especially with the both of their smart mouth’s combined. It practically spelled recipe for disaster, and Mina was gladly anticipating the ensuing chaos.  
  


Lots of sunscreen—just in case, you never know—and some bug spray later, Mina definitely felt like she was about to go hiking with her family, but much more lavishly dressed. She practically reeked of bug spray, though found the scent surprisingly more bearable after realizing Katsuki did, too.  
  


Mina waved a hand over her nose, gently trying to direct the scent in Katsuki’s direction. “Jeez,” she said, purposely making her voice sound choked up as a bit of added dramatic flair. By the death glare Katsuki was sending her way, it was working. “How much of that stuff did you put on? The amount of cans you singlehandedly used up should suffice.”  
  


“Ha, ha,” Katsuki bit out in a grouchy tone. He turned on his heel, leaving Mina struggling to keep up with his slightly longer legs. “You’re a fucking riot. Happy?”  
  


“Very,” she chirped, smiling brilliantly. Katsuki, if it were even possible, only seemed more annoyed. Mina took it as a win. “Where are we going, anyways?”  
  


“Chiba,” Katsuki answered shortly.  
  


Mina lit up, “Ooh, really?! I live near there! Funabashi, actually.”  
  


Katsuki grunted his acknowledgement, though Mina could tell he wasn’t all that into the conversation. She mostly chalked that up to it being so early in the morning, and decided not to push.  
  


She wondered if she could talk Katsuki into them going to visit her family again. It’d only been a couple weeks since everyone’s family had left, but Mina was already missing her siblings and parents.  
  


And, luckily, it was practically always warm where she was from, meaning she’d dressed fairly appropriately. They’d be going a few cities over from her home, but how was a few cities going to make much of a difference.  
  


A few guards and a coachman was waiting for them as they approached the carriage. It was still every bit as grand as Mina remembered. It was still hard for her to get over how nice things were here, sometimes. Especially the food.  
  


The guard helped her up into the carriage, and she scooted into the far left of the seat furthest from where the coachman would be riding. Katsuki sat directly across from her, the gap feeling like a chasm between them with how spacious the carriages were.  
  


The door shut softly after they’d both securely taken a seat. There was a soft padding of footsteps against crunching grass as the coachman made his way up front, reining in the horses and beginning their ride in silence. Katsuki seemed half asleep. Mina couldn’t help but wish the one guiding their carriage had instead been Nemuri—the woman made for a surprisingly entertaining conversationalist.  
  


“Oi,” Katsuki spoke up, voice groggy with what Mina assumed to be lack of sleep. She made the executive decision not to comment on it. “I’m goin’ to sleep. Didn’t get much sleep last night.”  
  


Mina nodded along, perfectly understanding. She wasn’t sure if he was suffering from being unable to fall asleep, excessive night terrors, or just not enough time to actually _sleep_ , but she could relate to being sleep-deprived no matter the cause.  
  


Nightmares had been plaguing her most nights for weeks. After Ochaco’s promise of comfort and support, Mina found herself seeking the girl out on the rooftops in the wee hours of the morning. She took each warm hug and golden smile dutifully, promising to herself she’d return the favor tenfold when the opportunity arose.  
  


“I get it,” she replied, nodding along. She had half a mind to take a nap of her own, if she weren’t so worried she’d wake up from nightmares again. That’d be embarrassing, especially in front of Katsuki. “Get some sleep in. It’s gonna be a long ride.”  
  


He was out like a light within minutes. So much for quality time spent with him. Mina couldn’t find it in herself to be all that upset about it, though. It’s probably best he got some sleep in now—hopefully, it means he’ll be in a better mood when he wakes up. Mina could tell he seemed particularly quiet and snappish this morning, and she wasn’t going to go and do something idiotic like say he _couldn’t_ take a nap.  
  


Mina leant her head against the cool glass of the window, watching the world pass by slowly outside. The carriage wasn’t completely protected against the cold, and she could feel some cool air blowing against her legs. It was just enough wind where it felt nice—not too cold, and definitely not too warm.  
  


If she weren’t actively trying to avoid falling asleep, she might’ve led the gentle rocking of the carriage lull her. The quiet, unlike she’d originally assumed it would be, wasn’t overbearing or awkward in any way. She could vaguely hear Katsuki grinding his teeth in his sleep, a habit that Eijiro had mentioned him doing in the past. Mina was just glad he didn’t snore.  
  


Katsuki woke up a few minutes before they arrived. Mina had been half-asleep by that point, lulled towards it by the comfortable silence and her own sleep-deprivation. Katsuki blearily blinked his eyes open, as if he could sense that they were close. The action was enough to bring Mina back to attention. She carefully rubbed at her eyes, trying not to smudge her makeup.  
  


“I think we’re close.” Mina said, looking out the window. She watched the familiar scenery pass by with a nostalgic gaze. She wondered, if she won, if she’d be able to come back here. Definitely not to live, but would she ever have the time to visit?  
  


“Yeah,” Katsuki agreed, still blinking sleepily at the window. “Ugh, fishing’s so fucking boring.”  
  


Mina snorted, leaning he head back against her seat. “Why’d you choose it, then?”  
  


Katsuki gritted his teeth, “It was Aizawa’s fucking suggestion. It just takes too fucking long for my tastes.”  
  


Mina shrugged, “Fair.” She played with her freshly painted nails, brushing her finger over a fresh chip in the polish. “At least you’ll have good company!”  
  


Katsuki looked over the carriage, eyes turning left and right, skipping right over Mina. “I don’t see any good fucking company here.”  
  


Mina pouted, sticking her tongue out at him. Before she could shoot off a quip back, the carriage was slowing down to a stop. Outside, she could faintly hear the soft shuffling of boots against gravel, only moments before the coachman was opening the door for them, bowing all the while.  
  


Despite Katsuki’s insistence, Mina waited it out until he left the carriage first. She followed right on his heels, grinning impishly.  
  


“When would you like me to return, Your Highness?” The coachman asked, bowing so low his nose nearly touched the ground. Mina thought it was a little much, and based on Katsuki’s disgruntled expression, he agreed.  
  


“Two hours,” Katsuki said. Mina internally groaned. That seemed like a _lot_ of time for them to just be _fishing_. “We’re gonna be making a stop at Funabashi before we go back.”  
  


The coachman was still in his stiff bow, and Mina was seriously starting to worry for the man’s back. “Yes sir!”  
  


He stood back up, making his way to the carriage and leaving a few minutes after getting settled. He looked cold. Mina winced in sympathy for him having to ride outside the carriage the whole way. At least he was dressed warmly, or as warmly as his uniform allowed.  
  


“Lead the way!” Mina said in a voice far too chipper for her internal mood. She was jealous of Katsuki’s nap the way here. Just the sight of him sleeping only seemed to make her more tired.  
  


“Aren’t you the one from here anyways?” Katsuki grumbled, but led the way nonetheless.  
  


“ _Near_ here,” Mina corrected, easily keeping pace with the blonde. “We didn’t really travel much, y’know?”  
  


Katsuki shrugged. Mina wondered if he got many chances to travel. The palace was pretty amazing, but she wouldn’t want to have to stay there _all_ of the time. Realistically, when Katsuki _did_ get to travel, it was all probably business related.  
  


The Selection was probably a chance at the first bit of freedom he’d had in a while. Being a Prince sounded cool on the surface, but Mina knew from her time spent in the palace that it wasn’t all fun and games. Being royalty entailed a lot of responsibility and high expectations. It was no wonder Katsuki seemed to be so high strung all of the time.  
  


“We’re here,” Katsuki said. The lake was as normal as one would expect, stretching a good distance across. With all the fog floating around, Mina couldn’t really see how far it went, but she was willing to bet it was a lot bigger than where she’d gone fishing with her friends in the past. Chiba itself was a lot bigger than Funabashi to begin with.  
  


There was a long dock reaching out towards the lake, hovering a few feet over the water. A bit away from the dock was a quaint building, which Mina thought looked similarly to a house. She had a feeling the location was more than coincidence, though.  
  


Katsuki approached the cottage with confidence in his stride. A tinkling bell rung when he opened the door, alerting a young man behind the counter to their entrance. He seemed surprised anyone was there, hurriedly shoving a pamphlet he was reading off to the side and beside one of the small, cheesy display cases.  
  


“Y-Y-Your H-Highness!” The man stuttered out, attempting to drop into a low bow only to bonk his head on the counter. “Ouch . . .”  
  


Katsuki scowled, “There’s no need for that. We just need a boat and a couple oars. And two fishing rods.”  
  


“O-of course, s-sir!” The boy saluted, and action that had Mina hiding her giggles behind her hand. She shot him a quick thumbs up, earning a nervous grin in return.  
  


Katsuki dug through his pockets, procuring an immense amount of yen that had Mina drooling. He handed the lot over to the equally shocked cashier, who looked like he was half-between shoving the cash in his pocket and protesting the clear overpayment. He decided on the latter, “P-Please, Your H-Highness! I c-can’t accept this!”  
  


Katsuki shrugged, “Why not? Just call it a damn tip and move on.” Mina didn’t bother stifling her laughter this time. Katsuki shot her a look. “The boats?”  
  


“Y-yes!” The boy exclaimed, physically flinching at the reminder. “R-Right this way, p-please!”  
  


They both followed after the boy as he nervously stumbled back out towards the docks. He pulled up a boat—it didn’t make it past Mina’s attention that the one he motioned specifically for seemed to be in the best shape, though none of them were particular lookers—and motioned for them to get in.  
  


“I’ll b-be back with the f-f-fishing rods!” He promised, dashing off before giving them a chance to respond.  
  


Mina tugged on the rope, making sure the boat was tightly fastened before tugging it to line it up side-by-side with the dock.  
  


“Get in,” she told Katsuki, holding on tightly to the side so it wouldn’t move as he maneuvered his way in.  
  


Katsuki grabbed the other end of the boat, making no move to step inside. “ _Lady’s first_.”  
  


Mina couldn’t help her smirk, “Exactly.”  
  


The cashier from before returned with two decent-looking rods before either Mina or Katsuki had gotten in the boat. He looked between the two of them apprehensively, with both of them holding tightly to either side of the boat and menacingly staring each other down all the while.  
  


“Do you, uh, n-need some h-help?” He asked, setting down the fishing rods on the dock.  
  


Mina broke off her staring contest to fix him with a sweet smile. “Yeah, could you help steady the boat while he gets in?”  
  


“S-sure!”  
  


Katsuki stood up, grumbling all the while. With Mina holding onto one side of the boat, and the nice cashier keeping the other steady, Katsuki made his way inside the boat with no fuss.  
  


Mina followed him in next, snatching the rods up off the dock while the boy held the boat steady. She tossed one to Katsuki, and held the other one firmly as she stepped into the boat, testing her balance before sitting across from Katsuki. Their knees brushed when they sat, the close proximity hardly bothering either of them.  
  


The boy made quick work of untying the rope, sending them off with a genuine smile and shy wave. Mina thought his timidity was adorable.  
  


The oars were attached to the side of the boat, so Mina made the executive decision to take over rowing for the both of them. She was no pro at fishing, but she figured getting them out to slightly deeper water would be a good place to start.  
  


After a lot of rowing, and a healthy burn building up in Mina’s arms, she’d gotten them a decent distance away from the shore. She used the oars to pretty much halt any further movement, before turning to Katsuki and lifting an eyebrow in question.  
  


Katsuki shrugged, “Good enough, I guess.”  
  


Mina huffed indignantly, coiling up her fishing rod. “I didn’t see _you_ rowing the boat at all.”  
  


“Because I wasn’t given the fucking _chance_.” Mina grinned to herself when Katsuki’s fishing rod made a splash in the water—no near impalement this time, at least.  
  


“Be quicker next time, then,” she quipped back, plunking her rod into the water right next to Katsuki after putting a worm on the end as bait. A lot of people might mind the sliminess, but Mina had learned to appreciate bugs more than be disgusted by them. They were actually pretty interesting, once you thought about it.  
  


“These are fucking disgusting. They’re still _moving_.”  
  


Katsuki clearly didn’t share the same sentiment. Mina huffed a small laugh, keeping an eye on her rod to feel for any small tugs. As soon as she felt something, she’d reel it in.  
  


“You never been fishing before? Of _course_ they’re moving. _Live_ bait, right?” She asked, hardly bothering to quench her laughter as his expression.  
  


“Of fucking _course_ I’ve been fishing before. The old man loves this kinda shit,” Katsuki snapped out, jerking a little and reeling his rod back in. Mina watched on in wonder, but all that came up was an empty hook, void of bait.  
  


“Yikes,” Mina said, pulling out another worm and latching it on. Katsuki cast back out his rod with a scowl. “That happens a lot. Super annoying, huh?”  
  


“Well you’d understand the concept of being annoying pretty well, hah?” Mina pouted, elbowing Katsuki’s side. The boat rocked dangerously, threatening to flip. They both went eerily still, silent and watching as the boat righted itself. “Tch. This is so fucking boring.”

“We’ve been here ten minutes!” Mina protested, nearly throwing her hands up in exclamation before remembering she was holding a fishing rod. “We could . . . make out?”  
  


Katsuki’s indignant sputtering was _totally_ worth the embarrassing comment. His face was as red as his eyes. If Mina was kind of laughing before, she was _cackling_ now.  
  


“Weirdo,” Katsuki muttered, shaking his head. “You fucking _wish_.”  
  


“Well . . .” Mina paused, unsure if she should say what was on her mind. At Katsuki’s demanding look, she continued, “I definitely wouldn’t _mind_ if we kissed, y’know? We’re already down to the final six, and you’ve only kissed three of us.”  
  


Katsuki was silent for a while. The sudden lack of noise had Mina biting her lip, rethinking her words from before. She nearly missed the slight tug on her rod, but by the time she’d reacted to the motion, the rod had been void of both bait _and_ fish. She cast it back out with a pout.  
  


“I’m not trying to play favorites,” Katsuki said after a solid ten minutes of silence. It had been making Mina increasingly antsy, but she kept waiting because she could tell Katsuki wasn’t done yet. “There’re six people left because there are six people I like equally. Physical affection and shit like that just isn’t my thing. There just hasn’t really been a moment between us or between me and Neito or me and Shoto where it felt right.”  
  


Mina hummed. She’d had plenty of moments with Katsuki where it’d _‘felt right’_ , but she had the distinct feeling romantic things like that didn’t come as naturally to Katsuki. She didn’t hold anything against him because they haven’t kissed, but she _was_ feeling a little jealous.  
  


She felt like she was behind the others, because they’d all been kissed—some multiple times—and she hadn’t. Neither had Neito, or Shoto and it just felt like they were stuck in place, while everyone else was progressing. She could see the way it bit at Neito’s nerves, especially in the way he’d started isolating himself from everyone else. Even Kendo, and those two were practically thick as thieves at this point. Kendo seemed like one of the few who could keep up with Neito’s obsessiveness and competitive nature.  
  


It didn’t seem to grate all that much on Shoto’s nerves, though Mina had never been able to get a proper read on the guy.  
  


She hated when she’d start to feel bitter, too, like Neito. Just because she hadn’t been kissed didn’t mean she had less of a shot as everyone else, right? She was still here, same as them, and she’d get her shot eventually. Or so she hoped.  
  


“When do you think it’ll _‘feel right’?”_ She asked, putting air quotations around the words _‘feel right’_.  
  


Katsuki stared at the water hard, ignoring the soft pull of his fishing rod as whatever bait he’d used this time was promptly eaten by another fish.  
  


“I don’t know,” he answered, and Mina was glad for the fact that he was at least being honest. “I’ll know it when it comes.”  
  


Mina took that at face value. She didn’t pursue the topic any further, letting them sit in silence for a while as they focused mindlessly on fishing—they still have yet to catch anything worthwhile—and on the conversation they’d just held.  
  


After around half an hour of silent fishing, Mina grew too bored of the stagnant atmosphere, and started up a new, much more mindless conversation. Katsuki took the opportunity gratefully, going along with it in a much more subdued manner than he usually did.  
  


Mina could tell he was still thinking things through, and, to be fair, she was too. She felt bad for calling him out like that. She wasn’t trying to pressure him into kissing her—if he wanted to kiss her, he would.  
  


She couldn’t find it in herself to feel _too_ bad, though. In a lot of the Selection’s from the past, the kissing had begun much earlier than this time around. And there was a _lot_ more scandalous gossip. In terms of strictly romance—because Mina really did _not_ feel like thinking about Denki and Hitoshi right now—this Selection could almost be considered _tame_. There hadn’t been a lot of high strung competitiveness, or any indecent gossip about Katsuki and one of the Selected, as was usual.  
  


It was kind of nice that they’d all found a sense of camaraderie in each other, but that didn’t mean they weren’t all vying for the same spot—Katsuki’s spouse. Luckily, a lot of the Selected seemed to get the memo that this decision was _Katsuki’s_ and _Katsuki’s_ alone. There wasn’t much they could do to sway his decision, so Mina didn’t really bother. The only one who seemed even remotely competitive was Neito, and Mina had the feeling he was like that with a lot of things.  
  


Katsuki had been the one to point out the coachman’s return. Mina squinted in all directions, but couldn’t figure out right from left in the face of the swarming fog. She hadn’t a clue how Katsuki had managed to see far enough.  
  


“I’ll row, then,” he huffed out, grabbing the oars and awkwardly maneuvering towards what Mina hoped was shore. “Scoot, you’re taking up all my fucking arm space, pinky.”  
  


Mina smiled at the familiar nickname, scooting over like Katsuki had asked. “If your elbows weren’t so huge, they wouldn’t need so much maneuvering space. Jeez.”  
  


Katsuki scowled, though his angered expression was growingly glassed over by the fog. It seemed to get a lot thicker since they’d first come onto the lake, a fact that Mina was only really now registering. “My elbows aren’t fucking huge, your damn hips are. Taking up _all_ my space.”  
  


“Hey, I’m taking that as a compliment,” Mina said, puffing up her chest. “I’ve got great hips. If only I had a waist as small as yours to go with them!”  
  


Katsuki practically growled, maneuvering the boat towards the ever-increasing shoreline with ease. “I don’t have a small waist, dumbfuck.”  
  


“Dumbfuck?” Mina asked, snorting behind her hand. “That’s a new one. Your vocabulary astounds me.”  
  


“Shut the _fuck_ up,” Katsuki bit out, rolling his eyes petulantly.  
  


Mina huffed out another laugh. Katsuki really only furthered her point.  
  


Mina was the first to step out of the boat. She shook off her wet clothes—they’d been in a boat together, alone, for two hours. Of _course_ they’d both ended up a little soaked by the end—and held out a hand to help Katsuki out, smirking.  
  


Katsuki, predictably, swatted her hand away. He helped himself out with a near trip and a little wobbling, but ultimately ended up on shore. His naturally gravity-defying blonde spikes still seemed to float up in midair, absolutely defying ever law of gravity ever made, even while wet. Mina’s hair wasn’t so fortunate. It wasn’t _completely_ ruined, but her mess of cute curls was matted with lake water, and a little worse for wear. She’d need a nice bath when she got back to the palace.  
  


She practically manhandled Katsuki into the carriage, sitting beside him rather than across now that she knew he wasn’t intending to sleep. To her surprise, Katsuki turned around to face the coachman and said, “Set course to Funabashi. Drop us off there when we arrive, and wait while we’re gone. We won’t be long.”  
  


With everything else that had happened that morning, Mina had nearly forgotten about going to visit her family. She started bouncing in her seat, already feeling the excitement settle in.  
  


“Oh, I can’t wait!” Mina exclaimed once she’d felt the carriage rock with gentle movement. “I wonder how everyone’s doing back home . . .”  
  


Katsuki scoffed, “It’s only been two weeks, sheesh.”  
  


Mina shook her head, smiling fondly. “You don’t get it—my family and I do _everything_ together. I get that you and your parents aren’t really on the best of terms—and I’m not even going to _try_ to touch on that subject—but my family is my whole _world_. Being away from them for so long is just . . . weird.”  
  


She had a feeling he might not fully understand, but he shrugged and she took it. They rode along, with Mina mindlessly babbling about her siblings and Katsuki pretending to listen.  
  


“Myojo was a great addition to the family, too!” She said fondly, thinking of her youngest brother. He’d be starting school soon—if September could be considered _soon_. “He’s such a sweetheart. I think he’s got a knack for artsy stuff, too, which is good. It’s always nice to be interested in the things your caste is known for.”  
  


Katsuki was silent at that. Mina had to remind herself that the caste system didn’t directly influence his life. He’d been born a One and grown up as one, as well. She knows he’d never be one to half-ass _anything_ , or earn shit without working for it, but he’s definitely lived a different life than she had.  
  


Mina hadn’t really realized how hard the new generation of upper castes had it until she’d come to the palace. She’d thought it was all super cool and expensive parties, fancy food and a lavish life. They may have all that, but there was so much more beneath the surface that she’d never stopped to think about before, until she’d met a lot of people from higher castes. She almost felt bad for resenting Twos and Threes in the past, without giving them a fair chance, first.  
  


On one hand, Mina’s home life had been a constant struggle. Five kids and three paychecks would be hard on a lot of families. They were no exception. New clothes were a rarity. Money for frivolities that a lot of the upper castes took for granted were spent on things like bills and food. Mina could understand that much, especially once she’d started working, and had learned not to complain once she’d gotten older.  
  


And while people from higher castes never had to worry about not making enough money to live on, there were a lot more expectations of them. They were always set in the spotlight, with everyone’s eyes focused on them. No one paid attention to any measly Fives or Sixes, and so Mina could live her life in mostly peace. No one was expecting anything of her, and no one could force her to live a life she didn’t want. Not like how it was for Katsuki.  
  


“I’m sorry,” she whispered, because she was. She herself wasn’t apologizing for something _she’d_ specifically done—but just in general because Katsuki deserved better, and he wasn’t getting it.  
  


“For what?” Katsuki asked, crimson gaze flitting to meet her own. Mina had to fight down a blush because—he was so beautiful, in the late afternoon hue of the sky. His crisp locks of hair flowed like gold, enticing and beautiful. Mina realized this was another one of those _moments_ , where there was nothing more she wanted to do than lean forwards and kiss him.  
  


She didn’t, though, because she’d rather wait. She’d wait as long as it took, as long as it meant it was something Katsuki wanted, too.  
  


“For—well, I’m just sorry you’ve got such little . . . _control_ in your life.” Mina picked at her nails, chipping even more polish off than was already gone. “It . . . it just seems so sad.”  
  


Katsuki sighed, leaning his face against the window so Mina couldn’t see his expression. She imagined it’d be forlorn.  
  


“I fucking hate it,” he seethed. The image she’d conjured in her head of him switched from forlorn to angry. “I hate everyone acting like they own me ‘n shit. I wish the old hag had had another damn kid to take the responsibility. I don’t fucking want it.”  
  


Mina pressed a gentle, warm hand against his shoulder. If he was startled by the sudden touch, he didn’t show it. “Not a lot of people can handle the burden,” she whispered. “You’re really brave for taking that all on. If I’m being honest, I really don’t think I’m cut out to be Queen. I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed, if you get what I’m saying.”  
  


Katsuki snorted, but nodded all the same. “You’re not fucking dumb, y’know. If you applied yourself, I bet you’d be real smart. Good at manipulation, I can just fucking tell.”  
  


“Is being manipulative a . . . good thing?”  
  


Katsuki shook his head, “That’s not what I’m fucking saying, jeez. I just fucking meant that you’d be good at it if you wanted to be, not that you’d abuse your power.”  
  


“Thanks.” She felt a small tug at the corner of her lips. “Aren’t I supposed to be comforting you, though?”  
  


Katsuki sucked his teeth, turning his head back towards the window and shielding his face from sight. Mina felt like this was more out of childish anger than actual rage, like before.  
  


“I don’t need to be fucking comforted,” he protested. “I’m fine.”  
  


The words were small, and unsteady, like Katsuki didn’t truly believe what he was saying. Mina pressed more against his side, daring to lean her head against his shoulder. He didn’t push her off, so she kept her position, carefully keeping her distance so he could push her away if he so wanted.  
  


“You don’t have to be fine, you know,” she said softly, trying to project her warmth into him, like Ochaco had done those lonely nights on the rooftop. “I’m here. _We’re_ here.”  
  


She didn’t need to specify who the _‘we’_ was. They both already knew.  
  


Mina barely even registered the carriage stopping, and the coachman coming around to open the door for them. He found Katsuki and Mina lying together, scrunched up towards the window and wrapped up in each other’s warmth.  
  


Mina acknowledged the coachman, clearly debating whether or not to interrupt them. She nodded, holding up five fingers to indicate they’d need five minutes of alone time. He nodded curtly, shutting the door soft enough that she could barely hear the click.  
  


“Bakugou,” she said, drawing the blonde’s attention to her.  
  


“You can call me Katsuki, it’s whatever,” he grumbled, though he quickly turned his head away to hide his blush. Mina smiled, soft and sweet.  
  


“Katsuki,” she corrected herself, nudging the blonde. “We’re here. You okay?”  
  


“I’m fine,” he said again, stronger this time. Mina almost believed him. She didn’t bring her doubts to life, though, instead giving Katsuki a moment to prepare himself. “Thanks, I guess.”  
  


He still had his face turned away, but Mina had a strong gut feeling that he was still blushing.  
  


“Any time, Katsuki.” She loved the way the syllables of his name rolled off her tongue. It felt right, to call him Katsuki. Bakugou had always felt so stiff, and formal. “Hey,” she drew in his attention again, the blush finally fading, “is this one of those _‘it feels right’_ moments?”  
  


Her gamble was totally worth it when Katsuki barked out a laugh, leaning in moments later to cup and cheek and press their lips softly together. He smelled like caramel and spices she couldn’t name, and she inhaled the scent with as much fervor as she could in the moment.  
  


A moment later, they were pulling away. Mina gasped for air—it felt like the breath had been stolen right from her lungs. In it’s place were brilliant butterflies, flittering against her ribcage insistently.  
  


“Woah,” she breathed out, hardly bothering to contain her smile. “That was fucking awesome.”  
  


Katsuki snorted, and the romantic atmosphere broke in half with the sound. Mina didn’t mind the end of their moment, because there’d _been_ a moment in the first place and hadn’t this been _exactly_ what she’d been waiting for?  
  


The sound of the door opening only further killed the mood, as their coachman poked his head inside and said, “It’s been five minutes.”  
  


Mina laughed, a warm sound that filled the carriage. Katsuki scowled, hauling himself to his feet and holding out a hand for Mina to take. She took his offered hand, holding it tightly in her own. He didn’t let go even once she was standing, nor once they’d left the carriage and were walking along the familiar streets of Mina’s hometown.  
  


The air between them felt different—charged with something she couldn’t describe. She didn’t particularly feel like putting a word to it, because if she did she thought it would sound suspiciously like _love_.  
  


She was okay with what she had now. Love could come later—maybe sooner, and that would be alright, too.  
  


For now, all that mattered was the two of them, hand-in-hand and going to greet Mina’s folks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asdfghjkl I love Mina. If Bakugou doesn't marry her I totally would.
> 
> So like... there hasnt really been a lot of kissing? Sorry- I'm, like, not good at writing that sort of stuff because I've never kissed anyone before (there was that one time in preschool- but like I dont think that counts XD)
> 
> Here's the list of the remaining Elite:  
> Kirishima Eijiro - Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku - Six  
> Todoroki Shoto - Two  
> Ashido Mina - Five  
> Monoma Neito - Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco - Seven
> 
> I'm gonna be really real with you guys- when I was writing one scene of this chapter, I c o m p l e t e l y forgot Shoto's existence- I feel so bad TwT I kept writing things like "there are five Elite left and only three have been kissed" and then I was like "...wait a minute. ShOtO" So, yeah, that happened
> 
> Aaaanyways, next chapter will hopefully have another date.. or a continuation of this one? I might write Mina and Katsuki going to visit Mina's fam, but maybe, maybe not. We'll see *shrugs*
> 
> I'll see you guys on Friday ^^ hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	58. Fix It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did someone say a continuation of the last chapter?
> 
> Yes, there's more bakumina (not as fluffy as last chapter, though)
> 
> Enjoy!

Dabi felt conflicted.  
  


On one hand, he had his duties to Akuyaku, and furthermore to Sensei. He felt bad letting the man down, even if he didn’t seem upset. But Dabi had absolutely no interest in marrying Katsuki, and even less in killing the boy and stealing his crown. He wasn’t a murdered, but orders were orders. These had come from Shigaraki specifically, but Sensei had approved greatly so they might as well have come from him.  
  


On the other, he had Keigo, who could steal his breath away with one smile. Keigo was like the sun, shining down like a beacon onto Dabi’s shit hellhole he calls life, and bringing a warmth with him Dabi hadn’t felt since he’d been around his mother. He stuck to the man like glue, always soaking up that golden warmth Keigo emitted like drops of sunlight.  
  


He owed his life to Sensei, and yet his heart to Keigo. In his mind, it seemed like such an obvious choice to choose Sensei over anything else. But his heart yearned for Keigo, and Dabi just didn’t have it in him to resist. Nor to try and seduce Katsuki, because being around him didn’t feel the same as when he was with Keigo.  
  


He doubted Katsuki would choose him, anyways, leaving an open spot in his heart for Keigo to gladly fill. Dabi had the feeling Katsuki wouldn’t be choosing Toga or Twice either, and he could already feel Sensei’s budding disappointment now. He wouldn’t be angry, or upset, but he would be _disappointed_ and somehow that was so much worse than any yelling or screaming could ever be.  
  


Katsuki’s heart yearned for another, though, the same way Dabi felt naturally drawn into Keigo’s light. Perhaps Sensei would be appeased at least that Dabi was marrying a royal. Akuyaku didn’t _do_ alliances, but perhaps they could make an exception.  
  


It could go either way, though. Dabi had a feeling Sensei had been originally intending for him to marry Shigaraki until the opportunity for the Selection had arisen, but there were other fish in the pond for the man-child.  
  


Hopefully.  
  


Dabi mindlessly twirled a flower—courtesy of Keigo—between his fingers. His motions were controlled. Delicate. He didn’t want to crush the tiny flower’s stem, so he needed to be careful. Just like with how he proceeded with his situation from here. He couldn’t be certain of anything.  
  


The flower crumbled at the sudden intrusion of his mind. Keigo frowned at the sight, plucking the whittled creature from Dabi’s palm to cradle delicately. It was already dead, so Dabi saw no point. Then again, Dabi and Keigo always seemed to see things from different perspectives. For crying out loud, one of them came from a nation known for war and one of them came from a nation striving for peace and prosperity.  
  


“It’s dead,” Dabi pointed out, swatting away the blue flower. It tumbled towards the dirt, falling invisible amongst the vibrant colors of other plants decorating the garden. “There’s no point.”  
  


Keigo’s frown deepened, “It reminded me of your eyes. They’re really pretty, you know?”  
  


Dabi was glad for the scars covering most of his cheeks if only that no one could tell when he was blushing. He felt especially grateful now, knowing there’d be heat pooling under his skin if he hadn’t had patches of purple scarring there instead.  
  


“How can you just say things like that?” He muttered, shaking his head. Another way Keigo differed from Dabi is that he always said what was on his mind. He had practically no brain-to-mouth filter, unlike Dabi who held secrets close to his chest like a mother does her child.  
  


Keigo shrugged, grinning easily in that way that made Dabi’s heart melt every time. “Cuz it’s true. Blue’s my favorite color.”  
  


“That so?” Dabi asked. He plucked another flower from the ground, tearing the bud from the stem and placing it amongst Keigo’s mane of curly blonde hair. The flower shone a vibrant crimson, bringing a dash of color into Keigo’s otherwise plain outfit. The color suited him. “Well, red’s mine. Mainly because you look pretty damn good in it.”  
  


Keigo’s cheeks heated up the same shade Dabi had just described. He had a feeling he’d blush like that too, if his flushing could be seen. Instead, he got to admire the look on Keigo, taking in every prideful moment he succeeded in flustering the blonde.  
  


Keigo gripped his wrist, running a calloused palm over rippling, scarred skin. Dabi winced at the touch, feeling little pinpricks with every brush of Keigo’s hand.  
  


Most days, he didn’t mind his scars. At first, he’d hated the sight of them, covering as much skin as he possibly could before standing in anyone’s presence. He’d had a lot of time to adjust to his new appearance, reminding himself that this was better than being dead.  
  


Whenever he was with Keigo, though, Dabi felt self-conscious all over again. It was silly, but he wanted to look good for him. And his scars definitely weren’t what most would call good-looking. Far from it.  
  


“You always look _pretty damn good_ ,” Keigo murmured, as if reading Dabi’s thoughts and feeling the need to immediately refute them. He leaned forwards, and Dabi met him halfway with a kiss that warmed Dabi to the tips of his toes.  
  


Dabi was the first to break away, humming slightly at the lingering high of their kiss. “Even with my scars?”  
  


“Even with your scars.”  
  


As if to prove this point further, Keigo leaned forwards to press another soft kiss to Dabi’s cheek—right on a high patch of purpled scar tissue. Dabi felt another tingling rise up where Keigo’s lips met the patch of broken skin, but it wasn’t uncomfortable like it was when most people touched his scars. He trusted Keigo, more than he had anyone before, and it felt different with him.  
  


“Keigo?” Dabi whispered. He felt a little hum against the side of his neck, where Keigo’s face had taken residence when he went to lay his head down. “What’s gonna happen for us if I do have to marry Prince Bakugou?”  
  


Keigo didn’t say anything for a long while. He pressed his face further into the side of Dabi’s neck, breathing in and out evenly. The soft puffs of air against his neck helped to soothe Dabi. He didn’t move an inch, only holding Keigo’s hands delicately in his and waited patiently.  
  


“We’ll find a way,” Keigo answered eventually. He seemed to pick up on the tense atmosphere, voice barely above a whisper. “Love always finds a way.”  
  


Dabi took a deep breath, and he believed.

* * *

Hisashi pulled at the tip of his mask, removing it with a careful, practiced hand. Even after a long ten years, he was still adjusting to wearing it. He missed his sight, and sense of smell with every day that dragged by.  
  


He wondered what his son looked like, now that he was all grown up. Hisashi had had to leave Izuku when the boy was young, and it was one of his greatest, and few, regrets. Even worse was the need to lie about his circumstances. His injury was not by any means faked, but it wasn’t why he’d left.  
  


Inko was kind, passionate woman. She didn’t need to know that her doting husband was really after world domination all along.  
  


His love for her wasn’t diminished because of that. Hisashi had originally come to Shizuoka to scope out the area. He believed that knowing your enemy was an important step in strategizing against them. Falling for Inko had never been a part of the plan, but it was a detour he’d made for the sake of his heart rather than his mind.  
  


Having a son _definitely_ wasn’t a part of the plan. Izuku was a happy accident that had been brought into the world on one wonderful day of mid-July. Hisashi, even while far away from home, would sit by his window every 15th of July and blow out a candle in his son’s honor, wondering how things were going on Inko and Izuku’s end.  
  


Now he had his chance to see them again. He wished it were under better circumstances. His real reason for coming her hadn’t been to oversee Dabi, Twice, and Toga’s progress—really, it’d been for a chance to see his family again. With only six of the Selected left in the running, it wouldn’t be going on for much longer. He had to seize the moment while he had it.  
  


It did propose a good opportunity for him, though. When Tomura had presented the idea to him of having a budding marriage alliance on the table to infiltrate Shizuoka, Hisashi couldn’t have been more proud. Izuku was his son through blood, but Tomura had become a son of sorts to Hisashi in other ways. He felt bad abandoning Izuku only to raise another child in his stead, but with each of Tomura’s growing accomplishments, Hisashi couldn’t find it in himself to be upset.  
  


Izuku would make for a much greater heir—he’d inherited Hisashi’s sharp mind and strategic thinking, after all—but Hisashi knew there’d be no way of convincing his soft-hearted son to lead a country known for war and bloodshed. Tomura was easily malleable, at the very least. He would easily meld himself to Hisashi’s whims.  
  


Plans were progressing splendidly. Hisashi knew by now that Katsuki was dead-set on marrying from the Selected, rather than Tomura’s hand-picked trio of royal advisories. It didn’t matter to him, either way, as long as they gathered a sizable amount of information on the palace and Shizuoka in general. Once the royal family had been killed, taking over would be a piece of cake.  
  


If only they could conquer Ban’no as well. That _fool_ , Yagi Toshinori, positively grated on every one of Hisashi’s nerves. At least his chosen heir was a sensible woman, though Hisashi would continue targeting their nation even once she’d ascended to the throne.  
  


Once they had Shizuoka under their control, Ban’no would be next to fall. Akuyaku’s borders stretched far and wide, and their militia was unparalleled, seconded only by Shizuoka. With Shizuoka’s vast military forces combined with their own, taking over Ban’no would be nothing. Yagi Toshinori would fall, and Hisashi couldn’t _wait_ to see the day.  
  


It all depended on their success here, and now. If Katsuki wouldn’t willingly give them control, they’d force it from his hands with brute strength and an iron will. Hisashi had been working for this too long to fail now.  
  


If war was what Katsuki deemed he wanted when the time comes, war was exactly what he’d get.

* * *

Katsuki felt like a stranger in Mina’s hometown. Probably because he was.  
  


The people here were different from what Katsuki was used to—curious but not overbearing. Katsuki new from the get-go that there would be no way he was going to get away with going to town and _not_ being recognized. Usually, in most places he visited within the borders of Shizuoka, people would throw themselves at him for things like handshakes, autographs, hugs, or the like.  
  


It was mildly uncomfortable, but Katsuki tolerated it because he wanted to project a kind image to his people. If the people lost faith in him as a ruler, then they wouldn’t listen when he took over. It was something Katsuki had come to accept when he were younger, as much as he didn’t like it.  
  


Here, though, they’d watch as he passed. He could feel eyes on him, watching the scene go on with rapt attention. Mina waved to a few people, earning greetings all around from all kinds of people. Katsuki expected as much—she just seemed like the type of person to be well-liked. She certainly had the personality to end up being popular.  
  


Some commoners called out a greeting here or there to him, but no one surged forwards to beg him for an autograph or ask for a picture. In fact, the surge of the crowd seemed to bow around where he and Mina walked, as if they were afraid to approach them while on their date. It was different, but the nice kind of different that made Katsuki wish he’d soon more places like this before.  
  


Mina held herself with an air of confidence and comfortability. It was different from how she was like in the palace, taking each step at a time with a careful ease that made it seem like she knew exactly what she was doing. Here, she actually _did_. He could tell it in the uplift of her shoulders, and the tightness gone from her limbs. Katsuki had thought he’d seen her relaxed before, but he knew now that he was only now seeing that side of her. Like the palace was Katsuki’s domain, this was hers.  
  


They walked for a while. The weather outside was just warm enough to be comfortable, but brisk enough that Katsuki didn’t feel hot. The cool air felt good against his sun-kissed skin from those two long hours on the lake.  
  


The lively, urban areas of town soon turned way into a small and shabby road covered in moss and dirt. The buildings were remarkably less up kept—even the roads, unpaved and grimy. Katsuki didn’t utter a single complaint, remembering along the way that Mina had been born a Five. He had the distinct feeling she’d grown up in this sort of area.  
  


There were much less people around than before. Where their coachman had deigned to drop them off had been a more populated part of Funabashi. There wasn’t a moment that Katsuki went without hearing the chatter of hundreds of voices all blending into one. Here, it was rare they were called any greetings, mostly because there was no one around.  
  


Occasionally, people would pass by and wave shyly in Mina’s direction. She greeted them as eagerly as she’d greeted anyone, smiling and waving and calling out an exuberant, “Hello!” as she passed that left everyone with a small smile on their face. Katsuki was embarrassed to admit he was included in that group of people.  
  


A long trek and some minor burning in Katsuki’s thighs later, they made it to a small apartment building. In comparison to the buildings surrounding it, it looked pretty normal. The brick was a little faded, and had some vines growing up the side that needed to be trimmed. The windows were mostly clean, though Katsuki spotted the occasional streak here and there.  
  


The door creaked awkwardly as Mina pushed open the door, fighting against the worn hinges that clearly needed a new coating of oil. The door squeaked shut behind them once Mina let go, opening up instead to a small lobby.  
  


The carpet was actually fairly clean, and so was the furniture minus the small tear here and there. From what Katsuki had seen so far, it was actually a pretty nice place in comparison to the usual.  
  


Mina greeted the woman standing behind the front desk like an old friend, which, she probably was.  
  


“Hey!” She chirped, waltzing up to the woman and flashing her a smile. The woman returned the smile almost on reflex. “How’s everything going, Mrs. Ikeda?”  
  


The woman—Mrs. Ikeda—smiled tiredly. “Oh, just fine, deary. Come to see your folks?”  
  


Mina nodded, leaning against the counter. “Yep!” She said, popping the ‘p’. “Brought a guest along with me, too.”  
  


Mrs. Ikeda nodded in Katsuki’s direction, winking discretely when she noticed Mina wasn’t looking. Katsuki felt his face heating up despite his best efforts.  
  


“Well, you two lovebirds go on up then, don’t let me slow you down.” Mrs. Ikeda smiled, ushering them along with a gesture of her hands. Mina laughed, following the motion towards the back stairwell.  
  


“Alright, Mrs. Ikeda! Have a nice night!”  
  


Mina pushed open the back door, holding it open for Katsuki and following him through afterwards. She started up the rickety concrete stairs with a familiarity Katsuki expected.  
  


“What about the elevator?” Katsuki asked, when he felt like the silence was stretching too thin. “I coulda swore I saw one down there.”  
  


Mina shrugged, “It’s been outta commission for a while, now. Before I was even born, probably.”  
  


Katsuki didn’t pursue the topic, because his next question about why they didn’t get it fixed seemed mostly self-explanatory. He had a pretty good feeling they simply couldn’t afford it.  
  


When they reached the fourth floor, Mina pulled on Katsuki’s elbow gently to stop him from continuing his trek. He’d mostly been going on autopilot by then, mostly tired of walking by now. He felt bad for asking the coachman to wait, originally believing they wouldn’t be gone long. He hadn’t been aware how long of a walk it was, then.  
  


“Remember,” Mina said in a matter-of-fact tone that would’ve seemed condescending coming from anyone else. “ _No_ cursing. Myojo doesn’t need to hear that. Neither does Yami—if you start saying then he’ll start saying it, and we _really_ don’t need that. He’s already enough trouble. Just—play nice, okay?”  
  


She was smiling as she spoke of her family, reminding Katsuki of the warm introduction she’d given to all six of them.  
  


“Fuck you,” he spat back, earning a warm chuckle in return.  
  


Katsuki looked around at the hallways they were passing, trying to imagine the approximate size of each apartment. Regardless, it was still bound to be a cramped space for _any_ family of seven.  
  


Considering the impromptu nature of the date, Katsuki wasn’t surprised that Mina didn’t have a key on her. She probably hadn’t brought one to the palace in general, since she hadn’t really been expecting to come back during her stay. At least it was under good circumstances.  
  


Mina was the one to knock, a firm three raps against the door. Katsuki probably would’ve been a lot more aggressive with it, so he’s glad he hadn’t been the one to knock. Considering the rickety state of the rest of the building, he’d fear for the state of the door beneath his fist.  
  


The door opened less than a minute later. A familiar head popped their way out, and Yami grinned impishly at the sight of his cheerful older sister, a few paces in front of a scowling Katsuki.  
  


“Mom!” He screamed, much too loud for the cramped space. “Dad!”  
  


“ _Oi!”_ Katsuki could tell it was the neighbors yelling this time, the noise a lot more faint and coming from vaguely from the left. “ _Ashido, boy, is that you again?! Keep it_ down!”  
  


Mina rolled her eyes as though she were used to this. Considering the neighbors knew right away who it was making all the ruckus, he figured it was probably a pretty regular occurrence.  
  


Completely heedless to the neighbors, Yami continued to yell, “Mina’s here, guys! And she brought her _boooyfriend_.”  
  


Mina shouldered past her loud brother, grabbing Katsuki’s wrist and tugging him along behind her without a care in the world. If they weren’t currently standing in front of an 11-year-old—by Katsuki’s guess, though the kid could be either older, or younger—Katsuki would’ve throttled her, or at least threatened as much.  
  


He didn’t, though, because he could be fucking good when asked. Plus, he probably shouldn’t be setting that kind of example in front of his nation’s next generation. He really didn’t want to be ruling over a bunch of knock-off Katsuki’s—he may be prideful at most times, but he’d still own up to the fact that he was an asshole. Considering he was practically a male version of his mother, and he and she fought like cats and dogs, he’d gotten a personal taste of just how much of a dick he was on a regular basis.  
  


Someone came out to greet them. Katsuki vaguely remembered her name was Kiko—this was Mina’s mom. Katsuki bobbed his head in greeting, not entirely trusting himself to speak.  
  


Kiko nodded her head in return, offering Katsuki a kind smile before redirecting a venomous glare in Yami’s directions. Even Katsuki was a little scared—a mother’s wrath really was that terrifying—but Yami hardly flinched. He even had the audacity to _smile_ , and Katsuki had to give him a little respect for that ballsy move.  
  


“Yes, mother?” Yami said in a jovial tone that made Katsuki’s teeth rot.  
  


Kiko didn’t smack him upside the head like the old hag would’ve done to Katsuki. Katsuki had always assumed that was pretty normal for parents in general when it came to disciplining their kids, but after meeting with all of the Selected’s families, he was beginning to doubt that.  
  


“We’ve gotten four noise complaints from neighbors so far! We’re lucky we haven’t gotten fined for it, Yami, and that’s only with Mrs. Ikeda vouching for us!” She huffed, taking a deep breath to control her seething anger from leeching out. Katsuki considered suggesting the method to his mom, but figured she’d probably only take it as an insult. “Don’t do it again.”  
  


There was a definite chill in the air with her final words. Even Katsuki couldn’t keep himself from shivering at her dangerous tone. Yami looked thoroughly scolded, and it was similar to how he imagined himself looking after the old hag had scolded him—with a mixture of yelling, excessive cursing, and the occasional smack here and there.  
  


In the next second, Kiko had turned towards her daughter and Katsuki with a sickeningly sweet smile adorning her features. To Katsuki’s either horror or relief—he couldn’t decide—it seemed to be completely genuine.  
  


“Oh, so good to see you again, Mina!” Kiko tugged her daughter into a warm hug, brushing a comforting hand through Mina’s short-cropped, curly pink hair. She pulled back, instead turning to face Katsuki, and dropped into a low bow. “And you as well, Your Highness. What an honor.”  
  


Katsuki shrugged, reminding himself to keep the talking to a minimum. _“Play nice”_ , Mina had said.  
  


“Whatever,” he muttered. Mina rolled her eyes, though the action seemed more fond than annoyed.  
  


“We’re just about to eat lunch,” Hanako piped up, effectively interjecting herself into the conversation. “Come eat with us!”  
  


Both Mina and Kiko seemed tense at the suggestion. Katsuki had a guess why, but he didn’t say anything aloud.  
  


“We just ate, actually,” Katsuki lied smoothly. Mina shot him a relieved look—if money was tight, food probably was, too. Two extra mouths to feed might not seem like a big deal to someone like Katsuki, but it was to them. “But we were planning to stay, anyways. Need any help cooking?”  
  


So that was how Katsuki ended up in the Ashido’s kitchen, running around with Hanako, Kiko, Mina and Oshan in order to prepare a hearty lunch out of whatever they had lying around. Katsuki was a master at that—taking whatever was there and making it into something delicious. The extra hands were new, but not unwelcome. Despite his new presence, they seemed perfectly content to follow his instruction after realizing he knew what the hell he was doing.  
  


Mina sidled up beside him casually, smoothly enough that he didn’t notice her there until she started speaking. “You seem pretty good at all this cooking stuff, huh?”  
  


Katsuki shrugged nonchalantly, “The chefs always made the food too fucking bland for my taste, so I started cooking so I could show them how it’s fucking done.”  
  


Mina snorted, shaking her head. The momentary distraction nearly cost her the tip of her finger, but Katsuki was able to stop the disaster before it occurred. “Thanks,” Mina said, continuing to leisurely chop the carrots, slightly more focused this time. “And what’d I say about cursing, huh?”  
  


Katsuki scowled, and the expression wasn’t too different from what his expression usually looked like. He had what people called _‘resting bitch face’._ “I don’t see any kids in here, so it’s whatever. Who said you could boss me around anyways, hah?!”  
  


“Says the one who waltzed into _my_ house and started ordering us around the kitchen,” Mina retorted with a sly smile.  
  


She finished the carrots, dumping the chopped contents into a mixing bowl for later use. She pushed the bowl aside, moving to instead start cutting the onions. Katsuki ignored the way his eyes burned.  
  


“I don’t see anyone complaining,” Katsuki snarked back, feeling that familiar scowl click back into place. “Hey . . .” Mina looked towards him at the hesitant tone, pausing her movements. “Can they afford the food? You didn’t seem to want to eat with them so I just assumed—”  
  


“We can afford it,” Mina said in a clipped tone that made Katsuki feel chided. “Barely. We’ve got the bare minimum—the weekly paychecks we’re getting from me being at the palace should be helping, though.”  
  


“Actually,” Katsuki was sure he wasn’t the only one who jumped when Hanako decided to forcefully interject herself into the hushed conversation held between Katsuki and Mina. “We haven’t been getting the promised compensation for the past couple weeks. Ever since we left the palace, actually.”  
  


Mina nearly dropped her knife, though she was able to catch the tip at the last moment. Her eyes were blazing with barely contained fury as she looked past Katsuki towards her sister.  
  


“ _What.”  
  
_

Katsuki shivered at the tone, not used to that unbridled rage simmering beneath the skin from Mina. He expected the exuberant, bubbly girl who befriended people as easily as breathing.  
  


Hanako shrugged, though her eyes seemed sad as she looked down at the counter. “Yeah. When we got back, all we got in the mail was a letter saying that we wouldn’t be receiving compensation anymore, because they needed to refocus their efforts elsewhere. I got a job, though, so we’ve managed.”  
  


Mina rage-filled gaze flitted to Katsuki then. He backed up a pace, or two, seriously concerned for his health in that moment.  
  


“ _Katsuki_ ,” Mina wielded his name like it was a weapon, all righteous fury and furious glare that could cut through steel. “What. The. _Fuck_.”  
  


Half of Katsuki was absolutely terrified for his safety at the moment, but the other half was a mix of both confused and angry. When the hell had this happened?! Why hadn’t his parents told him?!  
  


Eijiro’s mother came to mind, then—her old, sickly self and her incapability of working. Eijiro had told him the only way he’d been able to come was because of the promised compensation. So where the hell was all that money going to?!  
  


“I didn’t know,” Katsuki said earnestly, cutting his honest crimson gaze towards Mina’s. She looked him over, probably trying to read his body language for any sign of a lie.  
  


When she seemingly didn’t find one, her tense posture relaxed, though only slightly. “Then find what the hell is going on, and _fix it_. I know I’m not the only one who can afford to stay solely because of the money they were _supposedly_ chipping in weekly for our families.”  
  


She dumped the chopped onions into the mixing bowl, picking up the rounded metal and stomping away towards her parents. The knife was still held menacingly in her hand, scaring Katsuki shitless, though he’d never admit it.  
  


“Fuck,” he whispered, though Hanako seemed to pick up on the quiet syllable.  
  


She pat his back in a way he guessed was meant to be soothing. “She’s not mad at you. Just upset in general. Give her some time.”  
  


Katsuki planned to. And right after that, he planned to fix this fucking mess his parents had made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been kinda playing around with my writing style lately--hopefully its better?
> 
> Anyways, sorry if you guys were hoping for a different date this chapter... but the idea for the lack of compensation came to me and this was the best opportunity sooo :P
> 
> Here's a list of the remaining Selected, plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro - Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku - Six  
> Todoroki Shoto - Two  
> Ashido Mina - Five  
> Monoma Neito - Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco - Seven
> 
> I feel terrible- I keep writing that there's five Selected left instead of six because I keep forgetting Shoto XD smhhh
> 
> Next chapter will be Katsuki getting on his parents about the lack of compensation, maybe some dadzawa since we haven't seen him in a w h i l e, and maybe we can go visit... Momo? Or maybe Mirio, probably one of those two
> 
> See y'all on Tuesday (and happy early halloween!)


	59. Repitition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone had a happy halloween!
> 
> Enjoy <3

Shouta hadn’t been to visit his kids in a while.  
  


He wasn’t sure when they’d gone from just Hitoshi and Kaminari to _‘his kids’_ , but he wasn’t putting up much of a resistance when he was in the comfort of his own mind. He’d slipped up in front of Hisashi _once_ , and the man still hadn’t dropped it.  
  


Nemuri had been kind enough to offer to drive him. She got off her shift early, meaning plenty of time for her and Shouta to drop off and see his kids and come back before anyone so much as noticed, or cared.  
  


It’d been a while since he’d gone to see them, mostly sending Nemuri in his stead for the time being while he was busy with work. Since it’d been a good while, he was stocked with enough food to last them at least a week, if not more, plus a solid storage of water and a couple blankets.  
  


Nemuri was making idle chatter from the front, while Shouta slumped over in the carriage, listening to her chatter on carelessly and mentally debating whether he should catch up on sleep while he had the chance. His subconscious must have decided for him, because he woke up to the sound of Nemuri yelling in his ear and vaguely different surroundings than he’d seen before he’d passed out.  
  


“Good, you’re awake.” Nemuri grinned, flicking her hair over her shoulder. She stepped a couple paces away from him. “Come on, sleeping beauty. We’re here.”  
  


Nemuri spun on her heel then, with an urgency that Shouta’s tired brain refused to agree with. He rubbed his eyes, grumbling under his breath and following after the woman on tired legs. Nemuri led the way like she knew it better than the back of her hand, following twists and turns that Shouta still wasn’t entirely familiar with.  
  


He could tell they were getting closer if only by the indescribable stench permeating the air. It smelled vaguely like alcohol masked underneath enough filth to curdle milk. People became scarce, save for the few Eights hiding in the alleyways that would occasionally peep their heads out of hiding either to gawk at the newcomers or just leer.  
  


Nemuri deigned to ignore the mostly curious stares, striding forwards with her head held high. Shouta followed her example, hoping that smell of copper in the air wasn’t blood like he thought it might be.  
  


They’d walked far enough where Shouta was beginning to feel sick with how many homeless people they’d managed to pass by the time they finally found Hitoshi and Denki. The latter was completely passed out, curled against the former’s side. To Shouta’s shock, and later horror, all the past supplies they’d brought were completely gone, leaving nothing but the pair and an auspicious briefcase that Shouta didn’t have the patience not to question.  
  


“Where’d everything go?” He demanded, though his tone came out sounding a lot more worried than he’d originally hoped for. If Nemuri hadn’t seemed equally as anxious, she probably would’ve shot him a smug look. “And what’s with the briefcase?”  
  


Hitoshi sighed, shifting Denki slightly so he was sitting in a slightly more comfortable position. Denki stirred slightly, muttering something unintelligible before cozying up to his fiancé and falling right back into a deep sleep.  
  


Shouta took a seat besides Hitoshi, on the side that Denki was laying on. Nemuri instead found a spot in front of the couple, directly across from where Hitoshi had positioned himself.  
  


“I’ll start from the beginning,” Hitoshi began, talking in a hushed voice. Shouta wasn’t sure if it was to keep from waking Denki, or bothering the other Eights camping in the area. He had a suspicion it was probably both. “Apparently, Iida and Hatsume are staying in the area. Getting married, too, which is pretty cool. Anyways, they stopped by to visit when they were going to taste test cakes and so we both came out to talk. We were away from our stuff for ten minutes maybe, fifteen at best. When we came back, _all_ of our stuff was gone.”  
  


Shouta felt like his whole body shut down at those words. With everything they’d been risking—all the trips, and going back-and-forth behind the backs of the palace. All of that, stolen in less than ten minutes. At least the two were still alright, and Shouta was glad him and Nemuri had managed their trip a little earlier than planned.  
  


Hitoshi continued after a brief pause, weighted with a heavy, drawn out silence between the three of them, “We still had the ring Mid— _Nemuri_ —gave us, though, and Iida and Hatsume bought us some food. The briefcase holds all the money, and Denki’s gonna buy his way up to a Six. Then, we’re gonna get married and then we’ll both be Sixes, at least.”  
  


While Shouta definitely didn’t like the situation, he was at least glad they’d found a quick way to remedy it. And were being smart about it. The thought of marrying their way up hadn’t even occurred to him—he wasn’t entirely sure if Eights even _could_ marry their way up. He’d never heard of it happening, though he didn’t see a reason why not.  
  


Plus, while being a Six wouldn’t lead to the most ideal life-style, it wasn’t a bad one to lead, either. Shouta had been born a Six himself, and only moved up to the caste of a Two by marrying Hisashi.  
  


He was certain Hitoshi would be able to adjust. He’d grown up an Eight, which had it a _lot_ worse than any Six. And, despite Denki being raised a Four, he’d had enough time to get used to leading an underprivileged life as an Eight, even if he’d gotten outside help. They’d probably make it just fine.  
  


“You could work at the palace as Sixes, you know,” Nemuri chipped in. Shouta had nearly forgotten that—a lot of the maids were Sixes, as well as some of the kitchen staff. There’d probably be a job for them there, if they wanted it. It also meant Shouta could keep a closer eye on them, without nearly as much sneaking around. “I’m a Five, you know. There’s a slight difference, but not by much. I bet you could find a job there.”  
  


Hitoshi was silent for a long time. It was dark, though Shouta could just barely make out an expression of contemplation on his face. His head shifted up and down slightly—he was looking between both Shouta and Nemuri and Denki a few times.  
  


“I’ll need to talk to Denki about it,” he decided. It was as much as Shouta expected. “When do you think you can come back?”  
  


Shouta wasn’t sure. He’d been swamped with work lately, and hardly was given a break. He didn’t know the next time he’d be able to come, but he hoped it was soon.  
  


Nemuri was much quicker to answer, “I’ve got the day off tomorrow, actually. My sister just had a baby, so I’m going to visit and meet the little one. She lives not too far from here—do you think that’s enough time to make your decision?”  
  


“Yeah,” Hitoshi said, and Shouta believed him if only for the lack of hesitation. “I pretty much already know which direction I’d prefer to take, and I have a feeling Denki will think the same. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”  
  


Nemuri leaned forwards, wrapping Hitoshi up in a warm, motherly hug. Hitoshi curled into the touch, returning it in a way Shouta hadn’t been expecting him to do so openly with Nemuri. He really had been gone too long.  
  


Shouta leaned forwards next. He wasn’t really one for physical affection—Hisashi had figured out as much by now—but he was willing to make an exception this time around. Hitoshi held onto Shouta just a little longer than was usual, though Shouta made no move to pull away.  
  


“Bye, dad,” Hitoshi whispered, so quiet Shouta almost didn’t hear it.  
  


He did, though, and he felt his arm almost subconsciously tighten around the boy held protectively in his arms. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”  
  


Shouta hoped he could hold to that. He’d try as hard as he could, because Hitoshi and Denki were practically family.  
  


“Maybe you won’t have to,” Hitoshi whispered, pulling back with a wry grin that reminded Shouta way too much of himself. It was uncanny how similar he and Hitoshi were sometimes.  
  


“I hope I’ll be seeing you and Denki at the palace, soon, then.” Shouta returned the grin, and—in a rare moment of affection—stretched a hand outwards to ruffle Hitoshi’s mane of violet hair.  
  


“I bet you will.”  
  


Hitoshi nodded, a cool smile alighting his expression amongst the dim light of the stars. He watched Shouta and Nemuri go—Shouta could tell by the feeling of a lingering gaze on his back.  
  


The gaze fell away as he and Nemuri turned the corner, making the long, solemn trek back to the carriage.

* * *

Mirio didn’t know quite how strenuous wedding planning would be until he and Tamaki had been officially engaged.  
  


Nejire had mostly taken over, offering help wherever help was needed. She went above and beyond, planning things down to the finest detail without so much as a singled uttered complaint. It didn’t even seem to be slowing her down. She was equally as exuberant as always, and was ready to make time for Mirio or Tamaki at a moment’s notice.  
  


Mirio hadn’t been handling it as well. Nejire couldn’t very well do _everything_ —even though she’d taken up the role as their unofficial wedding planner—and Mirio had every intention to pay her, no matter how much she fought him—there still were certain things only he and Tamaki could decide. He didn’t realize how stressful it actually was until then.  
  


He was nervous, a lot of the time. He knew Nejire wasn’t slacking—whatever she had planned, Mirio knew he and Tamaki would love. When it came to decisions he and Tamaki had to make, though, Mirio worried whether they’d disagree. They hadn’t, yet, though there were a couple areas where he felt like Tamaki just wasn’t speaking up about what he wanted.  
  


As much as Mirio would love to remedy this, he wasn’t really sure how without pushing too much. He wanted to compromise—decide on something they’d both love equally. But there were some times where Mirio could tell when Tamaki was passionate about something, and some times where he seemed like he was just settling.  
  


Before making any rash decisions, Mirio had decided to talk to Nejire about it. The girl in question always seemed to know exactly what to do, and Mirio was in need of her advice right then.  
  


“What do I do?” He’d asked over a bowl of ramen she’d invited him to. The meal had been Mirio’s treat, and he was watching his wallet like a hawk to make sure Nejire didn’t slip any money into it when he wasn’t looking.  
  


Nejire shrugged, pausing for a moment to take a long, contemplative slurp. “I don’t see why you aren’t just talking to him. Tamaki’s a big boy, he can handle it!”  
  


Mirio sighed, wondering whether he should follow that advice or think of another way. In the end, he _had_ come to Nejire for advice, so it’d be rude not to listen.  
  


“Of course, I’ve thought of that,” he’d said after a moment of thoughtful silence. “But, I want him to always feel comfortable coming to me first. Just because I say he can doesn’t mean he’ll believe it, y’know?”  
  


Nejire hummed, her only outward response to show that she’d heard him. He allowed her a moment to stew, thinking it over and figuring out how to go about this without freaking Tamaki out but making it known that he could tell Mirio things in the future.  
  


“Repetition isn’t a bad thing, you know,” she pointed out thoughtfully. “Sometimes certain things are drilled into someone’s mind so forcefully that they refuse to believe otherwise. If you want Tama to fully open up to you, you need to remind him that he can. As many times as it takes for him to believe you!”  
  


Mirio felt stupid for not thinking of that himself. Then again, it is exactly the reason he’d come to Nejire. Despite her usual aloof demeanor, she knew a lot more than she let on based on the surface. Mirio had known her just long enough to see past that.  
  


“You’re really great, you know that Nejire?” The compliment came as easily as breathing, especially because it was true. Nejire took his words at face value, expression lighting up into a smile.  
  


“It was so good seeing you, Mirio!” She leaned over to wrap him up in a brief hug. Mirio just barely had time to return the gesture before Nejire was bounding off again, wrapped up in her exuberant energy and never-ending stream of enthusiastic smiles. “Wedding plans are coming along great, by the way! You should start thinking about your honeymoon, hm?”  
  


Mirio hadn’t thought of that in a while—maybe he should bring it up when he talked to Tamaki.  
  


“Thanks, Nejire!” He waved, picking up his stuff and conveniently forgetting to check his wallet before he left.  
  


When he returned home, he finally noticed a few wrinkled slips of cash in his wallet, exactly enough to cover the cost for the ramen he and Nejire had just had. A breath of air escaped him in a flash as he sagged over.  
  


“Damn it!”  
  


He wasn’t all that upset, though, evident by the grin tugging at the corner of his lips. He’d pay her back next time.

* * *

Mitsuki hadn’t slept solidly in at least 48 hours, or possibly more. She was running on small 30-minute power naps that left her more tired than when she’d first decided to lay down.  
  


Work had been a bother, lately, and she couldn’t find it in herself to just buckle down and _focus._ She didn’t feel as though she had a solid 8 hours to spare to catch up on sleep. Instead, she busied herself with politics that made her want to gouge her own eyes out while Masaru slept the night away.  
  


It wasn’t night anymore. The sun was already beginning to rise, though the lights remained very much necessary with the waning light the moon offered. Slits of orange peeked through the windows, hardly illuminating the empty room she’d situated herself in comfortably for the past two days.  
  


She’d fallen into a bit of a rhythm. The mounds of paperwork taking up a large portion of her desk space had been nearly cut in half, and she allowed herself a small nap every time she made a noticeable dent in the pile.  
  


Just as she was falling back into the rhythm she’d started up, the doors to her office slammed open with far more force than was necessary, throwing her off balance. She knew who it was right away, fixing her son with a tired glare that he met head on.  
  


“Old hag,” he growled out, sounding equally as annoyed as Mitsuki was. “We need to fucking talk. It’s _urgent_.”  
  


Mitsuki sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly and gesturing towards the seat across from her desk. She figured if Katsuki was willingly coming to talk to her, it must be important.  
  


He hesitantly plopped himself down in the plush armchair, scowling as he fought to get comfortable. Mitsuki stared him down the whole time, and not once did he shy away from her gaze. If she weren’t so damn tired, she might have even spared a moment to be proud.  
  


“What do you want, brat?” She snapped in a tone that perfectly suited the mood she was in. Masaru had been avoiding her like the plague for that exact reason. “If you couldn’t already tell, I’m fucking busy.”  
  


Katsuki scowled, and Mitsuki was reminded of how much her son really looked like her. “You stopped sending compensation to the families of the Elite and _didn’t fucking tell me?!”  
  
_

Mitsuki blinked—she hadn’t been expecting that. They’d made the decision a while ago, since it’d been a majority ruling. They decided they’d stop sending money and instead focus their wages on extensive war efforts. War with Akuyaku was inevitable, and it was a proven fact that they had the best militia known to man. If they didn’t step up their game, there’d be no way of them winning.  
  


She’d thought either her or Masaru had told Katsuki, though. It hadn’t been an intended purpose of specifically keeping things from him—most likely, with everything else going on, her and her husband had simply forgot.  
  


“I thought we told you,” she mused aloud, tapping her fingers along her desk. “But, yes, we’ve cut off any further compensation. Best used for future war efforts.”  
  


Katsuki looked, to her tired eyes, conflicted. Even while she was half-asleep, she could read her son like an open book. She had the distinct feeling he understood what they did, but was still upset about it for some reason or another.  
  


“A lot of the Selected,” he whispered, voice dangerously quiet, “are from low castes. In fact, the only ones whose families wouldn’t suffer would be Shoto and Neito. The others—the only reason they _can_ stay here is because they think their families are still receiving that money. Eijiro’s mom can’t even work on her own—and Izuku’s mom just had a major chunk of their paycheck cut out when he left, and has an extra mouth to feed at home.”  
  


Mitsuki thought it over—this was for the sake of a few, while if they lost this war there would be no salvation. Shigaraki was a cruel, rueful leader. Shizuoka would not benefit under his reign, and Mitsuki feared for the sake of her nation.  
  


These were difficult decisions Katsuki would have to come to terms with when he took over. She could see it in his eyes—he didn’t want to lose this fight, but he understood why he might.  
  


Mitsuki was a naturally ruthless person, but she did care for her country. She couldn’t bear the thought of taking this away from Inko, but she knew her friend would understand. She always was such a kind soul, and that fact was especially apparent when it carried over to her son.  
  


“I’ll continue sending compensation to Eijiro’s mother, solely because she’s too sick to work,” she said, with a tone of finality. Katsuki looked defeated though he didn’t look like he planned to fight her on it. “The others will just have to deal for the time being. The longer the Selection drags on, the more time they have to suffer. Keep that in mind going forwards.”  
  


Katsuki nodded, stood, and left all in one fluid motion. Mitsuki allowed herself a small prideful moment, because that was the first time in a long time that her and her son had carried on a civil conversation without Masaru’s interference. It goes to show just how much he cares about all of his suitors.  
  


It reminds her of her own days in the Selection, though she and Katsuki’s roles were reversed. She was the simpleton commoner with calloused hands and baggage for days, but Masaru found something in her that he wanted to marry and so it was. They made for an odd pairing, but they balanced each other out and made for a powerful couple, and wonderful leaders.  
  


She hoped Katsuki and whoever he chose ended up much the same. If she knew her son, they would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there wasnt more dadzawa. If Hitoshi and Denki start working at the palace, then we'll probably be seeing a lot more of him
> 
> Here's a list of the remaining Elite:  
> Kirishima Eijiro - Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku - Six  
> Todoroki Shoto - Two  
> Ashido Mina - Five  
> Monoma Neito - Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco - Seven
> 
> Mitsuki specifically told Katsuki to wrap up the Selection soon, which is basically my way of saying it'll probably be finished soon...ish. I already know who the final two will be, and the order of the eliminations coming before that, so its really just a matter of time.
> 
> Next few chapters are going to be dates, and some plotting from our LoV members
> 
> See y'all Friday!


	60. Shoto, or Katsuki?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhh this chapter got so far away from me, its really long XD
> 
> restraint? whos she
> 
> I went into this chapter thinking "hmm, lets have a cute little kiribaku date right after katsuki makes the reveal about the compensation" and then a bunch of tododeku and bakudeku appeared on my screen and idk what happened-
> 
> smh enjoy XD

Katsuki had come to make some sort of announcement. Shoto wasn’t sure what for, but judging by the look on his face, it couldn’t be any good.  
  


“Oi, listen up,” he called unnecessarily, as he already had all six of their undivided attention.  
  


Mina seemed to be the only one who had a clue what was going on. Perhaps it was related to their most recent date? It had only been a couple days prior, and she had seemed particularly distressed afterwards, as far as Shoto could tell. Then again, he’d never been good at picking up on social cues. He’d been getting better about it recently, but it was still hard when his best judge of character were both Izuku and Ochaco, and they were both painfully open books.  
  


“This is about that weekly compensation you lot were promised,” Katsuki announced in a grave tone. Shoto jolted, having nearly forgotten. He’d requested the money be directly delivered into his siblings bank accounts, and Enji hadn’t seen hide nor hair of it. “Long story short, we’re not doing that anymore. It’s best if I don’t go into detail about why, but I’ll tell you I wouldn’t let this shit go by with me if I weren’t sure it wasn’t important.”  
  


The overall mood of the room flipped quicker than a switch. Shoto wasn’t too concerned—he was slightly upset that Fuyumi and Natsuo weren’t receiving the money any longer, but he knew that Fuyumi, at least, was smart enough to build up savings to fall back on. Enji wouldn’t allow them any personal funds, and took whatever they earned from work. This was the most they’d gotten to themselves in a long time.  
  


He was mildly upset, but clearly not as upset as Izuku nor Ochaco. He could practically feel them sag in their seat, a once mindful, listening mood turned somber at the drop of a hat.  
  


The only way to describe Izuku’s expression was painful acceptance. Shoto could plainly read the emotions warring out on his face—he was upset, surely, about the lack of compensation, but understanding that it must be important if they stopped.  
  


Shoto was surprised Katsuki was vouching for his parents, because he was almost entirely sure this had been their decision. From what he’d seen, they hardly ever got along. It wasn’t quite as bad as Shoto and Enji’s relationship, but Shoto wasn’t about to go and say that Katsuki’s situation wasn’t bad just because Shoto’s had worse.  
  


If Katsuki’s going along with this, then there must be an important reason why. Shoto only hopes that Izuku and Ochaco’s families can support themselves in the time being.  
  


He glanced briefly to where Mina and Eijiro were huddled together. Mina looked entirely unsurprised, and painfully resigned. It only furthered Shoto’s beliefs that she’d already known.  
  


Eijiro’s expression was too heartbroken for Shoto to bear. He looked away a moment later, vaguely remembering the brief impression Shoto had seen of Eijiro’s mother. She was thin—too thin—and pale. Sickly, almost, like she could barely carry her own weight. Sevens couldn’t _afford_ to look like that, because working conditions were much too harsh.  
  


Eijiro had come in looking just as thin and pale, but with strong bones and a built frame. His form had noticeably filled out since then, most likely due to the more extensive food offered at the palace.  
  


While Eijiro might have been able to handle the work of a Seven, his mother didn’t look like she could. She might collapse if she tried, which meant—if what Shoto thought about Eijiro’s father was true—that she had no current source of income. Eijiro must be devastated. Shoto wonders—briefly, though he doesn’t let the thought stay long—if he’ll even be able to stay.  
  


His gaze drifts lastly to Neito. Shoto doesn’t think Neito would be too upset by this announcement, since he was a Two, same as Shoto. His family had nothing to worry about—they hadn’t needed the compensation from the start. Neito even less so than Shoto, as far as Shoto was aware.  
  


Shoto was entirely unsurprised to gaze upon an unconcerned Neito. He looked a tad smug, almost, though it flickered between guilt as his gaze went back-and-forth between the other Elite and his clasped hands. Briefly, ever so briefly, his blank, gray eyes met Shoto’s own, and they held eye contact for a moment—only a second. Then, he was gone, quicker than Shoto could read any emotion hidden in those steely gray depths.  
  


Katsuki wasn’t done, though. Apparently, he had more to say, as he cleared his throat and they all brought their gazes back towards him and locked in. “Eijiro.” The boy’s name was said in a frightfully shaky tone, an unnatural thing to hear from Katsuki. It almost made Shoto wince—almost. “Your mom’s fine. Since she’s unable to work, they’ll still be sending her payments. Everyone else—”  
  


There was a terribly long pause as Katsuki looked around the room, meeting each and every person’s gazes. Katsuki’s eyes fell on Shoto for a brief moment, and they looked sad. Distraught. Shoto nodded, a slight, imperceptible bob of the head. Katsuki took the small act of reassurance, letting a whoosh of air escape past his lips and into the tense silence of the room.  
  


Shoto reached over, almost on instinct, and grasped Izuku’s hand in his own. Izuku’s hand was warm, and rough. Shoto’s lithe, slender fingers ran over rough, patchy scars from long days of hard, unrelenting work of a Six. Work someone as kind, and smart, and talented as Izuku never should have had to endure.  
  


His slight ministrations turned into soothing circles. The tense line of Izuku’s shoulders relaxed, ever so slightly, and Shoto counted it as a win.  
  


Katsuki stood, a moment later, looking painfully awkward and terribly apologetic. No one was watching him as he left, though their gazes all flittered—in unison—towards the door after it had long been closed.  
  


Izuku released a long, shaky breath, and it was then that Shoto spared a chance to glance in his direction. He was blinking unshed tears from his eyes, and trying his damn hardest not to sniffle. He continued his circular motions on Izuku’s palms, trying to force all the love and compassion into each movement even if he knew his feelings were wrong, and painfully unrequited.  
  


When he finally spoke, his voice was hardly above a whisper. “Do you . . .” He paused, taking a moment to gather his bearings. Izuku’s tear-filled gaze was fixed on him, now, and Shoto had to take a deep breath at the unwavering attention. “Do you want to go to my room? For some privacy.”  
  


Shoto felt painfully awkward, sitting there, hand-in-hand with the man he loved, and asking him to go, _alone_ , to his room. Shoto had to force a reminder to himself that things weren’t like that, and that Izuku could never truly be his, because he already belonged to another, in a way.  
  


Izuku spared a short glance in Ochaco’s direction. By now, though, she’d already left.  
  


“Sure,” Izuku said, and his voice shook. Shoto didn’t say anything, only stood and when Izuku followed, he didn’t bother letting go of his hand.  
  


Shoto had no intention of letting go unless Izuku wanted to, and so he held on, because he thought that was what Izuku might need. Only partially because the mere thought of actually getting to hold Izuku’s hand made him slightly giddy. He quickly stamped the feeling down, reminding himself that he was only doing this for the sake of Izuku’s comfort.  
  


When they arrived, the door was unlocked. Shoto opened it, and Izuku stood eerily still, silently allowing Shoto the chance to enter first. Shoto didn’t bother putting up a fuss, because Izuku looked like he was on the cusp of tears and Shoto didn’t have the heart to argue.  
  


Izuku flopped on Shoto’s bed, falling limp like a ragdoll. Carefully, Shoto sidled up beside him, hovering a timid hand over Izuku’s scarred one. It was Izuku who made the bold move of reaching out, grasping Shoto’s hand and intertwining their fingers in a firm hold.  
  


His breaths shuddered as they escaped his lungs, so Shoto pressed himself up closer to Izuku’s back and let the smaller boy revel in Shoto’s provided warmth.  
  


They laid there, for a while, in absolute silence. Shoto waited patiently, giving Izuku his time to think things over. He was probably still slightly shocked, not truly sure how he was meant to feel about this.  
  


To someone like Shoto, money was nothing. He’d grown up surrounded by the stuff, and loathing every moment. For someone like Izuku, a small bit of cash could make the difference between a missed meal or that month’s rent.  
  


“Am I overreacting?” Izuku whispered his words to life, breathing them out into the comfortable silence of Shoto’s room.  
  


He heard rather than saw the soft pattering of fresh raindrops against his window. The weather seemed to read the mood of the palace, and changed accordingly.  
  


“No,” Shoto said—bluntly, but earnestly. It was simple, to him, and he said things as simply as he saw them in his mind’s eye. “You’re not.”  
  


“But you’re not crying,” Izuku pointed out—his voice was definitely wobbling a lot more than it had been a moment ago. Shoto tucked Izuku closer against his chest, disregarding all thoughts of how improper this might be.  
  


“No,” Shoto repeated, equally as blunt but thoughtful as the first time he’d said it. “I’m not. But I’m a Two. You were a Six. It makes a lot of difference, a couple of numbers.”  
  


Izuku breathed a harsh laugh that made Shoto shiver from something that wasn’t the cold. “Mom’s tough. She’ll manage. I _know_ that, because she must’ve done _something_ when I was too young to manage my own paycheck. So, why am I so worried?”  
  


“Because you care,” Shoto said simply. Izuku was kind, in every sense of the word, with a heart simply too big for his body. It was one of the main reasons Shoto had fallen for him so quickly. “You care so much and _that’s_ why you’re worried. And you have every right to be, you know.”  
  


Izuku was silent for a long time after that. If it weren’t for his frail, irregular breathing against Shoto’s chest, he would’ve thought Izuku had simply fallen asleep.  
  


“I just want what’s best for them,” he said, in a voice much too quiet. It hurt Shoto’s heart to hear.  
  


In a bold stroke of confidence, Shoto reached out to wrap a comforting arm around Izuku’s midriff. He felt Izuku’s breath hitch slightly, but other than that Izuku showed no sign of him acknowledging, nor minding, the unprompted touch.  
  


In another sudden movement, Izuku flipped over so he and Shoto were facing towards each other. He could feel Izuku’s warm breath tickling his nose, with how close they were.  
  


“They’ll be alright,” Shoto replied, though it was terribly delayed. “I think anyone would be alright, if only they knew the joy of meeting you.”  
  


It was cheesy, and cliché, but apparently it was the exact right thing to say because Izuku’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, that beautifully familiar grin curling his lips. Despite himself, Shoto found his own expression morphing into a smile at the familiar sight.  
  


“There it is,” he whispered, breath a ghostly whisper against Izuku’s nose.  
  


“What is?”  
  


“Your smile,” Shoto said, without fully thinking it through. He willed away his blush, trying to shove his embarrassment at his words and their proximity to the back of his mind. “It’s beautiful.”  
  


Izuku’s smile dropped—only a moment—though he didn’t lurch away, like Shoto thought he might. “Yours is, too, you know,” Izuku said, though it came out soft and hesitant, as if he was unsure of his words. “You should, um—smile. More.”  
  


“I just might,” Shoto said, leaning forward slightly, almost on instinct. He didn’t notice his imperceptible movement until his and Izuku’s noses were brushing together, limbs thoroughly interlocked. “If it’s for you.”  
  


No words were uttered after that point. Only a long, painful silence filled with longing and uncertainty.  
  


Shoto was the one to lean in, guided solely by his tainted emotions rather than logic and common sense. And every piece of his soul was telling him this man before him was the _one_ , and that there was no time better than now to express his desire.  
  


For once, he gave in to the feeling, relishing in the feeling of Izuku’s soft lips against his. Izuku leaned into the kiss, slotting his mouth against Shoto’s as they moved in tandem, bodies sliding together as if they were made for each other.  
  


And, as quickly as the moment came, the high faded, and they both were forced painfully back into reality. Izuku jerked away, accidentally kneeing Shoto—and fuck, that hurt, because Izuku was packing a lot more muscle than he usually let on—in the thigh as he jumped away. He accidentally knocked himself off the bed in his haste, though was quick to straighten himself.  
  


Shoto, still slightly recovering from his hit, sidled over to the edge of the bed, stumbling blearily to his feet as he reached out towards Izuku.  
  


“Izuku—I-I’m—I’m so _sorry_ —”  
  


Izuku had tears in his eyes as he looked away, fists clenched tight enough to leave little crescent-shaped cuts on the rough palms of his hands. “I shouldn’t have—I have to go, Shoto, I’m sorry.”  
  


“Wait!” Shoto protested, grappling for something to say—do—anything to make this situation any better than it was.  
  


But Izuku was already leaving, halfway towards the door and fully prepared to leave Shoto behind.  
  


“Izuku, wait, _please_ , I didn’t mean to—” Shoto pleaded, but his words fell on deaf ears. “Izuku, _I love you_ , but I never meant to— _please_ , we can still be friends! Don’t go, just—we can talk about this.”  
  


Izuku’s eyes snapped to him then, a mixture of fear, anger, and something that seemed painfully like regret. Shoto swallowed back his tears, feeling hysteria creeping in on the corners of his mind.  
  


“ _I love_ Kacchan!” Izuku cried, tears finally slipping free of tear-filled eyes. “I shouldn’t have kissed back—I wasn’t trying to lead you on, Shoto, I’m sorry, but I can’t—I-I can’t _do this_. We can’t do this. I’m sorry. I need space, please.”  
  


Izuku looked so heartbroken, that Shoto couldn’t do anything but agree. Izuku left in a tear-filled haze, and Shoto felt himself break down as soon as the door had clicked shut softly behind him.  
  


He’d fucked up—he’d fucked up _so bad_ because Izuku was never meant to know. Shoto didn’t know when he’d let his feelings get so out of _control_ like this.  
  


 _But he kissed back_ , a desperate, clinging part of his mind cried. _He kissed back, and he_ enjoyed _it.  
  
_

Shoto stamped down the thoughts, surrounded by too many other hideous, self-deprecating thoughts to even allow himself the slightest sliver of hope.  
  


He’d come here in the hopes of lifting Izuku’s spirits, and only managed to make things worse for him. Shoto felt like an idiot—a hopeless, love-driven _idiot_. Izuku had never wanted him, and never would. He was a fool to think otherwise, for even a moment.  
  


Shoto crashed into the side of his bed, sliding down to fall on his knees and allowed himself a few piteous moments to sob and mourn the loss of a friend.

* * *

Izuku was fully sobbing by the time he reached his room. The guard stationed outside his door cast him a concerned glance, but didn’t comment as Izuku fled to his room, slamming the door shut behind him.  
  


His maids were inside, mindlessly joking and simultaneously cleaning his already impeccable room. Their smiles morphed to frowns when they saw the state he was in. Izuku could hardly see them through the blur of his tears, and ignored them in favor of burying himself in a mound of fluffy blankets and soft pillows.  
  


After a while, they figured it was best just to leave it well enough alone. Izuku was trapped alone in a room with nothing but the sound of his incessant sobbing and his thoughts. In the distant background, he could hear a soft pattering of rain against the balcony. He shut out his thoughts, focusing on the _drip, drip, drip_ with each splash of water.  
  


He had _kissed Shoto_. And _enjoyed it_. Shoto had initiated, but Izuku had leaned into. Kissed him back. He’d relished in the sensation, part of him still upset that he pulled away. But he loved _Katsuki_ , so why did it feel just as good to kiss _Shoto_?  
  


He’d hated seeing that pleading, crestfallen look adorning Shoto’s features, but Izuku couldn’t bear to stay one more moment. If he did, he wasn’t sure he could resist kissing Shoto _again_ , and he can’t explain where these sudden feelings are spawning from.  
  


He isn’t given much time to think, because a moment later a knock rings out against his door. Thinking its Shoto, Izuku deigns to ignore the sound.  
  


Another round of knocking comes, more persistent this time. Izuku belatedly realizes he’d never locked his door, only when he hears the lock click and the door creak open.  
  


Shoto would never be bold enough to invite himself in, though, so Izuku takes a chance by peaking over his shoulder at the sudden intruder. It’s Katsuki, surprisingly enough, wearing a weary yet hesitant expression. The guard outside must’ve mentioned Izuku’s pitiful state.  
  


“Sorry I let myself in,” Katsuki grumbled, perching on the edge of the bed carefully like he was afraid of scaring Izuku away. “You weren’t answering. Guard mentioned you were crying, and I couldn’t just . . . ugh, whatever. So, like, are you expecting me to, like, hold you or whatever?”  
  


Katsuki sounded so totally out of his depth that it made Izuku laugh. For a moment, he forgot what had happened with Shoto—but then his thoughts came crashing back down, and he only sobbed harder.  
  


“Shit,” Katsuki cursed softly. Izuku, face tucked into his pillow, felt the mattress shift slightly and then a warmth pressed against his back. It was so familiar to the position that he and Shoto had been laying in, and it made Izuku feel like throwing up.  
  


“Kacchan?” He whispered, pressing against the warmth Katsuki offered. Katsuki grunted, letting Izuku know he was listening. “I love you. Did you know that?”  
  


Katsuki was silent for a long time. The rain had grown heavier now, beating against the windows with a fierce intensity that matched Izuku’s internal mood perfectly.  
  


“I didn’t,” he said eventually. He was silent after that, and Izuku wasn’t upset he didn’t say it back. He hadn’t expected him to.  
  


“Well, it’s true,” Izuku reiterates, leaving no room for argument. He wants to make sure Katsuki knows—and some part of him wished Shoto were here to hear it, too, because Izuku loves _Katsuki_ and despite a part of him wondering what him and Shoto could be under other circumstances, _this_ is their circumstances and Izuku loves _Katsuki_. Not Shoto.  
  


He _can’t_ love Shoto.  
  


_But what if I do?  
  
_

A sob rings out in the awkward silence of the room. Izuku curls up into himself, and Katsuki molds himself so that he’s wrapped around Izuku’s smaller frame. He’s got an arm draped loosely over Izuku’s waist, and it makes him feel secure, despite the tears not seeming to want to stop.  
  


He remembers Denki, and Hitoshi, beaten and bruised but together through it all. They hadn’t let something like the law stand between them.  
  


Izuku would never be as brave as either of them. Beneath it all, he was a coward, who didn’t know what the hell he was doing.  
  


He loved Katsuki, but maybe a part of him loved Shoto, too. A part of him that he buried deep, deep down, because loving Shoto wasn’t _allowed_. He was scared of what would happen if he did love Shoto, and he couldn’t accept the fact that he just might.  
  


So he curled up with Katsuki, and shoved any and all thoughts of Shoto to the darkest recesses of his mind. He relished in Katsuki’s warmth, taking in each faithful moment of silence and comfort.  
  


“Kacchan,” he said, a bit more steady this time. Katsuki hummed, and Izuku felt the vibrations more than he heard it. “Kiss me. Please.”  
  


Katsuki sent him a questioning glance, but followed instruction without delay. Their lips met, sending a tingling sensation all the way to the tips of Izuku’s toes. He melted into the kiss, Katsuki’s hand surging up to cup his jaw.  
  


Kissing Katsuki felt like he was breathing in his first taste of heaven. It felt new, and fresh every time, and Izuku didn’t want to _stop_ kissing him.  
  


But kissing Shoto had been sweet where Katsuki was rough, and tender where Katsuki was fierce. They were like polar opposites—night and day, ice and fire, the moon and the sun.  
  


Izuku didn’t know what he wanted.  
  


Part of him longed for the intense flame of Katsuki’s love. It burned bright, and fierce, and filled him with a fiery passion like no other.  
  


Then there was Shoto, with his soft eyes and sweet smile and kind words. He filled Izuku with a kind of warmth he’d been intentionally ignoring until now, and he still wasn’t fully ready to admit.  
  


It was too much to decide in one night. Izuku had Katsuki, here and now, and that was all that mattered in the moment.  
  


Katsuki was the first to break from the kiss, though his lips lingered a moment longer. “Wanna get out of here? The garden’s gorgeous at night.”  
  


Izuku didn’t have the willpower to say no.

* * *

Katsuki made his rounds, checking on some of the Elite to make sure they weren’t suffering alone. He’d gone to visit Eijiro, first, who’d quickly shooed him off so he’d go help the others.  
  


“Me—I’m fine,” he said certainly, bobbing his head. “It was really considerate of you guys to continue sending her money.”  
  


Katsuki shrugged, unsure of what to say. He’d been surprised when the old hag had agreed to continue sending compensation Eijiro’s way—he’d been surprised by their entire conversation, really.  
  


Eijiro had leant over, giving Katsuki a brief side-hug that he was too prideful to return.  
  


“Focus on the others,” Eijiro had instructed in a soft tone. Katsuki slumped into the hug. “Uraraka, Mina, Midoriya—they need you right now, man. The rest of us will be fine.”  
  


So Katsuki went to see each of them, in that order. He didn’t bother looking in Ochaco’s room, already at terms with the fact that she was probably up on the roof.  
  


He passed a window, and noticed raindrops fogging his view of outside. It made him oddly reminiscent of his and Ochaco’s first time up on the palace rooftops, dancing in the pouring rain.  
  


He knocked three solid times before opening the door leading out to the roof. Ochaco was there, huddled up on the ground. She wasn’t completely soaked, yet, but she was well on her way.  
  


She didn’t turn to face him, even when he’d sat down beside her and placed a hesitant hand over her own. It was with the gentle touch he felt her shivering, the cold of the rain seeping into her skin. Katsuki felt those same chills arcing across his back. He pushed it to the back of his mind, in favor of focusing on the girl beside him.  
  


“You’ve been crying,” he observed, voice soft against the pattering of rain against concrete.  
  


Ochaco sniffled, which only served to be even more telling. “I haven’t,” she refuted, puffing up her cheeks indignantly. Katsuki wasn’t fooled for a moment. “It’s just the rain. You’re confused.”  
  


“Call it what you will,” Katsuki replied, refocusing his gaze towards the slowly building raindrops. They were coming down with a fierce intensity, with the promise of growing worse with time. “You should get out of the rain. You’re shivering, pink cheeks.”  
  


Ochaco huffed a small, sad laugh. “I like it here,” she said, smile dropping into a thoughtful frown. “It soothes me.”  
  


“Maybe it’s just me,” Katsuki said, “but I don’t find hypothermia to be very fucking _soothing_. Let’s just go somewhere warm, alright?”  
  


He stood up, not leaving room for argument. By the tone of Ochaco’s sigh, she’d come to this realization as well. She took Katsuki’s outstretched hand, albeit hesitantly, and he helped pull her to her feet.  
  


She wobbled slightly, unsteady, but Katsuki caught her and they made it inside without hassle.  
  


Water pooled beneath Katsuki’s feet with every step. He didn’t pay it much mind, save for them walking slowly to keep themselves from tripping down the stairs. Katsuki hated the annoying sound his shoes made when the soles squished, but Ochaco wasn’t saying anything and he was planning on doing the same.  
  


She didn’t talk again until they’d made it to her room. She’d gone right for her closet, heedless of the water she was tracking everywhere. She came out a couple minutes later in dry clothes.  
  


“Feel any better?” Katsuki asked, crossing his arms uncomfortably. His wet clothes were grinding at his nerves, but he’d suffer in silence for the time being if he could get Ochaco to talk first.  
  


“Not really,” she said earnestly, offering a pitiful shrug. She flung herself onto her bed, mindful of her wet hair. “I’m being stupid, aren’t I?”  
  


“No, you’re not,” Katsuki refuted immediately. “Money’s not a big deal to me, but I get why it is for you.”  
  


Katsuki couldn’t see Ochaco’s expression, since she had her face hidden in the mound of pillows propped up near her headboard. She looked perfectly content where she was, and Katsuki didn’t expect her to be moving any time soon.  
  


When she did speak, her voice was slightly muffled but still legible. “It shouldn’t be,” she whispered, sighing. “I didn’t come here for the money, I came here for _you._ But . . . I’d be lying if I said money wasn’t part of the reason I felt like I was even _able_ to come.”  
  


Katsuki wished for a brief moment that he could comfort her in a way that wasn’t just meaningless words. Words had never been his strong suit. He wasn’t a physically affectionate guy, either, but it was sure as hell easier to convey his message through actions rather than words.  
  


But he was soaked head to toe in salty rainwater. If he tried to reach out now, it’d be no good. Words was all he had, and he needed to make the most of it.  
  


“What was it like, for you?” Katsuki asked, belatedly realizing exactly how _vague_ that sounded. “Growing up, I mean. Tch.”  
  


To his surprise, Ochaco turned to face him, then. There were drying tear tracks falling along her cheeks, speaking louder than any words could exactly why she’d hidden away to begin with.  
  


“It was . . . hard. In terms of a Seven, I’ve always been really weak,” she admitted this with a sad frown and the threat of more tears. Katsuki swallowed any words he might have wanted to say, and listened as she went on. “I did a lot of training as a kid, to help my parents out when I was old enough. But still, I just never seemed to grow. Everyone around me was growing big and strong and I was still just the weakling with round cheeks and noodle arms.  
  


“I got bullied a lot for it, too, but I know it could’ve been worse. I didn’t even go to school—we couldn’t really afford it, so I had to build myself an education elsewhere—so, like, I didn’t have to see other kids that much. I finally got into my parent’s business when I was fourteen, but I wasn’t very good at it.”  
  


There was a long pause as Ochaco collected her thoughts and wiped away her tears, forcing herself to continue, “Before I started working, my parents were gone every hour of every day. I was alone a lot—training, working, and studying. Food was really scarce and we went cold during the winters more often than not.  
  


“Once I started working, things got easier. Like I said before, I wasn’t very good at lugging around heavy equipment, so construction wasn’t really my thing. My paycheck was terrible, but we made every penny count. I saw my parents a lot more, and it was nice for a time. We sort of fell into a rhythm.  
  


“I heard about the Selection coming up, and was _so_ ecstatic, y’know? I’ve had a pretty big crush on you for a while—” she was blushing as she said this, and Katsuki wasn’t fairing much better, “—and at first I was super excited. I went right to the post office and signed up. It wasn’t until I got home I realized—I couldn’t just leave my parents alone like that. The only reason I decided I’d come was because of the compensation, since they’d have that extra support while I was gone.  
  


“They’ll manage, I’m sure of it!” Katsuki wasn’t sure if she was more trying to convince him or herself. “They’ve got one less mouth to feed, and they had to have made it before I was born. I’m just . . . well, I’m super worried!”  
  


She wasn’t crying anymore, which Katsuki counted as a win, though she looked like she was on the verge of tears.  
  


“Well, shit,” he whispered, shaking his head. “Let me tell you something, Ochaco.”  
  


She gasped quietly, a small smile pulling at her lips. “You called me _Ochaco_ —”  
  


“Hush, I’m not fucking done,” he snapped, but the words held no real venom. “I’ve got a lot to say about all of that. First and foremost, you are _not_ the weakling, got it? You work damn hard—harder than a lot of those other extras—and I can respect that. I don’t give two fucks if you can’t lift heavy farm equipment all day long like it’s nothing, because I couldn’t either, so if those damn bullies of yours want to come here and tell me what they told you, they’re welcome to.”  
  


Ochaco’s smile had grown a bit, which made Katsuki feel slightly less guilty about the fact that she was crying again.  
  


“Second of all, you’re right,” he said. Ochaco’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion, but he didn’t give her much time to wonder. “Your parents _will_ manage. It won’t be easy, but if they’re as strong as you, I know for a fucking fact that they’ll be just fine. And let me tell you, this Selection won’t be for much longer. I know your families need you all right now, and I’m not gonna keep you away for long. When this mess is over and done with, you’ll either be a One or a Three, and you can go right on back to supporting them. They can handle themselves in the time being, ya hear?”  
  


“Loud and clear,” Ochaco replied. Her tone was soft, and slightly touched, so Katsuki felt like maybe he was doing something right.  
  


“And when _I’m_ King,” Katsuki continued, because there was a lot more he wanted to say. “Things are gonna change around here. I’ll make them better, just you wait.”  
  


“I’m sure you will,” Ochaco said, and rather than sounding teasing, her words were perfectly earnest and a little hopeful. Katsuki intended to hold up on his end of the bargain, and make things better for all of Shizuoka when he came to power. “Thanks, Katsuki. That actually . . . that helped. A lot.”  
  


Katsuki scoffed, willing away his blush. Luckily, his face was just cold enough from the rain that it probably wasn’t noticeable. “Fucking good. We both know I ain’t good with words.”  
  


Ochaco was still smiling, and half-asleep, when Katsuki left. He made a bee-line to his room, changing into dry clothes. No way in hell was he putting himself through another sort of hell like that. For once, he’d admit to preferring _cuddling_ over sitting down and talking about his feelings. He just hoped Mina wasn’t still upset with him.  
  


She was. Though, it seemed more like she was upset in general rather than just with him.  
  


He found her curled up near her desk, tapping out a soothing rhythm with her nails. She didn’t bother letting the door open for him, only calling out a simple “It’s open!”  
  


Katsuki let himself in, slipping off his shoes right away and letting his bare feet rub against the soft carpet. Mina kept drumming away to her made-up rhythm, hardly bothering a glance in Katsuki’s direction.  
  


Katsuki cleared his throat, though she still didn’t pay him any mind. Her hand paused a moment in mid-air, before continuing on with a new beat. “You okay?”  
  


The question felt pointless, but it was the first thing that came to mind. Mina hummed quietly, along to the rhythm of her hands.  
  


“I don’t have it too bad,” she said. Katsuki doubted her for a moment—because clearly something was still upsetting her. “I’m _upset_ , and we both know it. But I don’t have it too bad.”  
  


Katsuki perched himself on the edge of her bed. At the squish of the mattress, she finally turned to face him, face carefully blank.  
  


“I’m not upset with you,” she confirmed in a quick, decisive tone. “But I feel bad for some of the others. Feel bad for my family, too, but they can handle themselves. Hana’s working now, and they have one less mouth to feed.”  
  


“You should be fucking upset with me,” Katsuki muttered, mindlessly picking at a loose thread on his pants to distract himself. “I wouldn’t blame you. I tried, but I didn’t try hard enough.”  
  


Mina shrugged, “You said it was important. If _you_ think it’s important, then so do I. I trust your moral compass.”  
  


“You shouldn’t,” Katsuki snapped, tugging the thread loose with a flick of his wrist. He held a long strand of black thread, and had nowhere to put it, now. “I’m not a good person.”  
  


Mina snatched the thread from his hand, quicker than his eyes could keep up with. She dumped it in the trash in one moment and was beside him in the next, cradling his hands in her own. Her hold was firm, and he cherished the touch, even if it may be fleeting.  
  


“That’s a lie,” she refuted calmly. “Look at me.”  
  


He wanted to, but he didn’t know what he’d find if he did meet her eyes, and he didn’t want to know.  
  


He felt a soft hand against his jaw, pulling it towards her. He didn’t fight the movement, though he kept his eyes firmly averted. Mina continued on, entirely nonplussed.  
  


“Katsuki.” His name flowed from her lips like silk, finely woven with care and a sort of delicacy that Katsuki could never possess. “You’re going to make a great King someday. You know how I know that?”  
  


As much as he didn’t want to, Katsuki humored her. “How?”  
  


“Because I know _you_ ,” her response was immediate and steadfast. “And who you are is a great man. You may be brash, and aggressive, and a _little_ closed-off at times, but beneath that rough exterior lies a kind man who takes the time to understand and _help_. I wouldn’t say that about just anyone.”  
  


“I’m not either of those things, you know,” Katsuki grumbled, yanking his hands away from Mina’s kind touch. He didn’t feel as though he deserved it. “Look at me. I came here to fucking comfort you, and here you are trying to talk all my woes away.”  
  


“You’re helping me, though,” she insisted. “I needed a distraction. You gave me one. And if I can help you understand _exactly_ why I want to be here—with _you_ —in the process, then all the better.”  
  


Katsuki finally flitted his gaze over to meet hers, holding eye contact. She didn’t look away, and Katsuki wasn’t about to lose, either. Silence enveloped every crevice of the room, but it felt surprisingly comfortable.  
  


“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” Mina whispered, finally. “I’m gonna be fine. Like I said, I’m upset, but my family will be fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”  
  


Katsuki held her gaze, until Mina gave in and finally looked away. “I should . . . go. If you need me—”  
  


“I know where to find you,” she finished with a small smile.  
  


She reached out, and Katsuki met her halfway. She took his hand in hers, cradling it comfortingly as she brushed a soft kiss against his knuckles.  
  


“Good night, Katsuki,” she whispered, and Katsuki sealed the night with a soft kiss.  
  


They parted ways in a much better mood than they’d started.  
  


Katsuki sought out Izuku, decidedly checking the boy’s room first and foremost. There was a patient guard stationed outside, as there always was. It was a regular thing, apparently, to have guards outside the rooms of the Selected at all times. Katsuki thought it was useful, in case of an emergency. What that emergency might be, he wasn’t sure.  
  


The guard hardly glanced in his direction as Katsuki knocked firmly on the door. No response. Katsuki gave it a few extra minutes, before spinning on his heel and preparing to leave.  
  


“He’s in there, Your Highness,” a deep, unfamiliar voice rang out behind him. Katsuki glanced over his shoulder, at the straight-laced stationed guard. He was looking right at him, and was even so bold as to meet his eyes. “He was crying when he came.”  
  


That explained why he hadn’t answered the door, then. Katsuki didn’t hesitate in knocking a second time, and opening the door without waiting for response. Izuku peaked his head over his shoulder, surprise flitting across his expression at the sight of Katsuki. His eyes were red and puffy, a sure sign he’d been crying if Katsuki hadn’t already figured as much.  
  


Izuku had tucked his face away into his sheets a moment later, fists clenched tightly over the silky material. Katsuki tread on cautiously, struggling to find something to say.  
  


“Sorry I let myself in,” he eventually decided on, cursing himself for how awkward he sounded. He sat on the edge of the bed, carefully. “You weren’t answering. Guard mentioned you were crying, and I couldn’t just . . . ugh, whatever. So, like, are you expecting me to, like, hold you or whatever?”  
  


Katsuki could practically feel the nervous tension in the room, and fought to bite back a scowl. He wasn’t good at this, especially when someone was crying. But, he’d managed to help Ochaco, so maybe he could do this, too.  
  


For a moment, Izuku laughed, and Katsuki’s spirits soared.  
  


And then whatever spell had been cast was broken, and Izuku was back to sobbing. He was curled up in the fatal position, as if trying to make himself as small a target as possible. Katsuki felt his heart break at the sight, and couldn’t hold himself back any longer.  
  


“Shit,” he whispered, already climbing over the bed to cradle Izuku in a careful hold. Izuku leaned into the touch, whether he realized it or not.  
  


There were no words for a long time. Katsuki could _feel_ Izuku thinking, warring with his mind over something or other that Katsuki had no clue how to fix. He had the distinct feeling this wasn’t about the compensation at all.  
  


_But then what is making him this upset?  
  
_

It was a question he didn’t have an answer to, or any time to ponder. Izuku was already speaking again, and Katsuki nearly missed what he’d said in the haze of his own mind.  
  


“Kacchan?” Izuku whispered, voice torn and broken. Katsuki hums, and feels Izuku shift against him, curling into his offered warmth. “I love you. Did you know that?”  
  


Katsuki feels a thousand emotions hit him with the weight of a freight train. Some part of him wants to agree, whisper _“I love you too”_ and be done with it. But Katsuki couldn’t—he wasn’t ready to admit something so deep like that. He couldn’t even be sure if it were true, because he’d never experienced love before.  
  


It came to him suddenly that Katsuki really didn’t know what the hell he was doing.  
  


“I didn’t,” he said finally, feeling like the phrase was incomplete. A tense silence followed, and then a sharp exhale from Izuku. Katsuki felt a surge of guilt—here Izuku was, being brave and confessing his love, and Katsuki couldn’t even give him that in return.  
  


Still, he stayed silent.  
  


“Well, it’s true,” Izuku says, in a soft, reminding tone. Katsuki feels suddenly like these words are more for Izuku’s sake than his own. Like he’s trying to convince himself of their meaning. It leaves his stomach feeling oddly hollow.  
  


Izuku sobs again, curling up into himself. Katsuki molds himself to his form, draping an arm around his waist and holding tight, like any moment Izuku might just disappear.  
  


“Kacchan,” Izuku whispers, voice cracking. Katsuki hums, letting him know he’s listening without the need for words. Words were never his strong suit, after all. “Kiss me. Please.”  
  


It was random, and completely out-of-the-blue, but Katsuki complied. A beautiful spark of something wonderful lit a fire in Katsuki’s chest when their lips met. It was a feeling he’d known since their first kiss, and every fateful kiss after.  
  


It was different with each person—kissing Eijiro had felt like sunshine and an overwhelming sense of joy he didn’t feel with anyone else. But when he’d kissed Izuku, it felt like a raging inferno had burned inside his chest, begging to be unleashed. Kissing Ochaco was like warm, summer days and a soft silence that he couldn’t attain any other way. And when he kissed Mina, there was this sense of loyalty she always emanated, and Katsuki felt a bond between them—like trust, but it went deeper. Stronger.  
  


He didn’t think he could say that he liked any one of them in particular. Each moment felt magical, and right here, right now—with Izuku in his arms and their lips pressed firmly together—it was nothing short of heavenly.  
  


Eventually, he had to pull back, gasping for air. Izuku stared at him solemnly, seeming equally as entranced by the moment as Katsuki.  
  


“Wanna get out of here?” Was what he ended up asking, tone slightly breathless, but he didn’t mind. “The garden’s gorgeous at night.”  
  


Rather than respond, Izuku hopped up, holding out a hand for Katsuki to take. And take it he did, and he held him close as they put on warm jackets and covered their hair with a hood. It still didn’t do much against the rain, but the garden looked positively beautiful, so neither Katsuki nor Izuku found it in themselves to complain.  
  


They stayed hand-in-hand all the while, with Katsuki guiding and Izuku following dutifully alongside him. Izuku was pressed up close to his side, huddling up for warmth. In a bold moment of confidence, Katsuki wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled them flush together.  
  


Izuku squeaked, face alighting in a cherry red blush that made Katsuki grin. “Cold?” Katsuki asked.  
  


It was slightly unnecessary, because they were both shivering from head-to-toe, and Katsuki could _hear_ Izuku’s teeth chattering. Still, Izuku nodded, and pressed up more against Katsuki, begging for a warming touch. Katsuki didn’t have much warmth to offer, but he gave all he could.  
  


When they kissed for the second time that night, Katsuki felt a different sort of heat searing him all the way to the tips of his toes. His shivering was forgotten in the dead of the night, with nothing to warm him but a loose jacket and Izuku’s love.  
  


He pulled away only when the cold became too much to bear, and he could tell Izuku wasn’t doing much better. Worse, even, if the bluish pallor of his lips was anything to go by.  
  


“We should head back in,” Katsuki said, though he could hardly be heard over the thundering of rain. “Do you feel any better?”  
  


In lieu of an answer, Izuku pulled him down into another slow, lingering kiss. “Much,” he whispered, against the shell of Katsuki’s ear. It sent shivers down his spine, and he wished the moment didn’t have to end. “Thank you.”  
  


Katsuki didn’t deign him with a response, only wrapped an arm around his waist and walked with him back into the castle. They went to Izuku’s room first and foremost, where Izuku offered him dry clothes that were only a _little_ too small.  
  


Katsuki didn’t leave, instead lying at Izuku’s side and curling around him in a position reminiscent of how they’d been not even an hour before. He fell asleep like that, enveloped in the flames that Izuku brought on in him, with every warm touch and fierce kiss.  
  


Maybe Katsuki did love him—but those were feelings for only him to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay weLL that kiss between izuku and shoto wasnt meant to be for a while sO- oops? I just saw a tododeku opportunity and it turned into this
> 
> thERE WASNT EVEN ANY KIRIBAKU-
> 
> Welp, nExT chapter will be a kiribaku date, my baddd
> 
> Heres a list of the remaining Elite:  
> Kirishima Eijiro - Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku - Six  
> Todoroki Shoto - Two  
> Ashido Mina - Five  
> Monoma Neito - Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco - Seven
> 
> Sooo- so far, I'm pretty sure that Katsuki has had official dates or date-like scenes with: Mina, Ochaco, and Izuku. Now, I'm just gonna write a date for Neito and Eijiro and then a moment between him and Shoto and then the group date is coming up where we'll have the next elimination. I'm kinda nervous about the next elimination... I really dont want to get rid of them T^T
> 
> Hey, notice how there are guards outside their rooms at _all times?!_ Shoto didn't seem very quiet when he said he loved Izuku...
> 
> Next chapter will be out on Tuesday! See you guys then ;P


	61. I'm Scared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is super random, but I've become recently obsessed with this fic called [ oyasumi midoriya](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16237514?view_full_work=true) and it feels almost criminal not to tell you guys about it. I wont say anything (because pretty much any description would be a spoiler) except that its really good and I recommend reading the comments of each chapter.
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy this chapter!

Shoto woke to the sound of a knock on his door.  
  


“Let me in!” A familiar voice called out. Shoto sighed, dragging his feet tiredly against the floor as he went to open the door for his brother.  
  


Shoto hardly bothered with a proper greeting, just held the door open and let Dabi let himself in. Shoto slumped back over to his bed, wondering if it was stupid that he was still upset over yesterday. Would Izuku be willing to talk to him today?  
  


No. Probably not.  
  


Dabi frowned, kicking the door shut behind him as he toed off his shoes. He followed Shoto onto the bed, made even more obvious by the noticeable dip of the mattress.  
  


“You look like shit,” he pointed out brutally. Shoto groaned, pressing his palms against his eyes and rubbing the sleep out of them. Dabi’s frown deepened. “What happened?”  
  


That was a loaded question. The simple answer was that Shoto and Izuku had kissed. The long, and more honest answer, was that Shoto and Izuku had kissed despite Izuku _not_ loving Shoto and Shoto _definitely_ loving him. Now, Izuku probably hated him, and Shoto was absolutely fucked because he was still hopelessly in love.  
  


“I kissed Izuku,” he decided on, because words felt like a lot of effort. His voice was thick with sleep and something else that Shoto didn’t have the energy to put a name to.  
  


He finally pulled his hands back at the prolonging silence from Dabi. He was as shocked as Shoto had expected, and a little confused. A lot worried, and seeing that made a well of guilt gnaw at Shoto’s stomach.  
  


“Yeah,” Shoto muttered, rolling onto his back and staring unseeingly at the ceiling. “I know. I fucked up.”  
  


“Fuck,” Dabi muttered gracelessly, flopping over to lie beside Shoto. His presence was surprisingly comforting, though Shoto still felt like an asshole. “How did he react?”  
  


That was another complicated question.  
  


Shoto hadn’t entirely processed everything that had happened the day before. One moment, he and Izuku had been pressed up against each other comfortingly, and the next they were kissing. And Izuku had kissed _back_ , though Shoto was starting to think that was because he’d been upset and seeking comfort. Shoto was an idiot, forcing himself onto the other boy like that. Now Izuku probably wanted nothing to do with him. He’d made it pretty clear for Shoto to stay away.  
  


Part of Shoto didn’t want to stay away. He’d ruined his chances of friendship with Izuku, but a large part of him wanted the boy to still be part of his life. He wanted that overwhelming warmth Izuku offered so effortlessly. He felt like a parasite, taking and taking and giving him nothing but pain in return.  
  


Which is why Shoto knew he had to stay away. Izuku would be better off that way, and that was what mattered most.  
  


“He told me—he needs _space_ ,” Shoto said, forcefully holding back another sob at the memory. He felt like curling up in bed and never leaving—was this what heartbreak felt like? If so, it fucking _sucked_. “I feel so stupid.”  
  


Dabi was hugging him in the next moment, an unusual but welcomed motion. Shoto hugged back with all the fierceness he could offer, crying into his brother’s shoulder.  
  


“You’re not stupid,” Dabi whispered, rubbing soothing circles against his back. Shoto felt like a little kid again, crying into his mother’s shoulder whenever Enji would hit him. But now, things were _so_ much different. For once, Shoto was crying for another reason, and he wasn’t sure if the parallels were any better or worse. “It’s understandable to be upset. _Trust me_ , I’ve been there.”  
  


“I’ve never been in love before,” Shoto whispered, voice muffled by Dabi’s shirt sleeve. “I didn’t know it would hurt so much.”  
  


“It won’t always hurt,” Dabi whispered, voice soft and comforting. He brushed stray tears away from Shoto’s eyes. His expression was serious as he spoke, “There’s someone out there for you, Sho. Even if it’s not Midoriya, you’ll find someone.”  
  


Shoto said something he’d been thinking all the while— “Who would ever want to love me?”  
  


Dabi chuckled, but the small sound held no humor. “I thought the same thing for a long time. Just looking at me you can tell—I’ve got a lot of baggage. But I found someone, didn’t I? And you will, too. I promise.”  
  


Shoto didn’t say anything else, instead shutting his eyes and trying to internalize the words. He hoped he’d find someone, but every time he tried to think his mind drifted back to Izuku, with his keen eyes and brilliant smile. He was so effortlessly kind, thawing away at Shoto’s frozen heart. He knocked down Shoto’s walls without even trying, and made Shoto fall in love with him through the process.  
  


Shoto didn’t think he could love someone who _wasn’t_ Izuku for a long time. Izuku was one of a kind, and Shoto had ruined everything by kissing him.  
  


Dabi left after a while, leaving Shoto alone with his thoughts. He was stuck between berating himself and thinking of the _what-ifs_. What-if they’d met under different circumstances? Where their love might be allowed and Shoto would have a shot. Would Izuku love him then?  
  


He didn’t know.

* * *

Eijiro was a naturally outdoorsy person. It was fitting, since work had required him to spend most of him time outside, anyways. The weather was just nice enough in Funabashi for him to tolerate work year-round, even without proper winter garb to fight off the cold.  
  


The weather at the very heart of Shizuoka—and by extension, the palace—was a lot crisper, and less manageable. Eijiro had jackets and mittens to fight off the cold with, this time around, and he felt himself appreciating them more and more every time he went out.  
  


March was right around the bend, and the cold had only just begun to chip away. Eijiro wasn’t waking up to the sight of frosted windows and dry, crispy air. Spring would be coming soon, and the need for heavy coats and gloves for Eijiro’s frozen fingers would no longer be necessary.  
  


He didn’t bother with gloves today, even though he was going out. It was relatively nice out, considering the season. It had swelled up to a mildly impressive sixty degrees, which Eijiro thought was perfect weather for a hike.  
  


He couldn’t stand sweltering heat. He didn’t travel out of Funabashi enough to experience it often, but there had been one year where the summer days only managed to drop down to eighty on a good night, and ninety usually. He’d sweated like a pig during work, and nearly fainted from heat exhaustion that one torturous day it’d reached over a hundred degrees.  
  


Biting cold wasn’t any better. With nothing to cover his hands or arms, Eijiro was left with goose flesh and chattering teeth. He’d come home to a silent, cold home and loose blankets that did nothing to stifle the cold.  
  


Funabashi was a great place to stay, because the weather didn’t shift much year-round. There were the occasional years where it’d go all over the place, but Eijiro lasted a firm 365 days and continued on when it all settled down.  
  


He could manage a hike in sixty degree weather. No doubt he’d work up a nice sweat on the way up, and that’d make up for the chill of the February air. Eijiro tossed on a thick T-shirt and a loose jacket, and called it a day.  
  


Eijiro didn’t start going on hikes until he’d met Katsuki. Before coming to the palace, he spent most of his time either working or taking care of his mom. It didn’t leave much time in his already tight schedule for fun activities like hiking.  
  


He didn’t realize exactly how refreshing it was just to immerse yourself in nature for a few hours. It was made even better when accompanied by Katsuki, because Eijiro simply couldn’t think of something more enjoyable than spending time with him.  
  


Coming to terms with the fact that he was hopelessly in love was easier than he’d thought. Eijiro had expected more grappling back and forth with himself over whether or not it was simple affection or outright love. But, he’d known from the start that he loved Katsuki, and he was happier for it.  
  


The sight of Katsuki, leaned up casually against the wall outside his room and tapping his foot impatiently, instantly brought a smile to Eijiro’s face.  
  


“Hey!” Eijiro called, as chipper as usual. Katsuki bobbed his head, scowling all the while. Eijiro’s smile softened at the familiar sight. “Ready to go? I packed some water bottles.”  
  


Katsuki shrugged, rolling his shoulders. “Yeah, whatever,” he grumbled, snatching the pack Eijiro had been holding moments before. “Let’s go.”  
  


Eijiro hummed, dutifully following as Katsuki led them down familiar hallways towards the gates of the palace. “I can carry that, you know.”  
  


Katsuki scoffed, “I’ve got it, shitty hair.”  
  


Eijiro’s self-consciously poked at his gelled hair, making sure it was all in place. It felt good to have it spiked up like it was, in the usual style he’d become accustomed to.  
  


He’d recently touched up his roots after seeing bits of black peeking out near his scalp. He’d been embarrassed for having walked around with them for so long, throwing on a headband to cover them up, for the most part, until he’d dyed them. His maids had offered to dye it for him, but Eijiro turned them down, missing the familiarity of the routine.  
  


Eijiro had seriously fallen out of touch since coming to the palace. He’d used to be entirely self-sufficient, and now was such a wild difference. He was growing used to having everything done for him, and wasn’t sure whether or not that was a good or bad thing. His mind was leaning mostly towards bad.  
  


It was nice, not having to do everything himself. There were certain things he liked doing on his own—like dressing himself or simply bathing—but he wasn’t complaining about having his outfits already picked out and at the ready for him. Or simply having to walk to the Great Hall and find food already waiting for him there, rather than slaving over the stove trying to cook something decent with what little sustenance he had.  
  


It was weird, but _really_ nice. Eijiro tried not to get too familiar, in the case he wouldn’t be staying, but it was hard not to get used to how things worked around here. In a matter of months, a lot of his old habits had been broken down and mostly forgotten. It wasn’t too weird, as long as he didn’t think too hard about it.  
  


Eijiro glanced over at Katsuki, finding him in even deeper thought than Eijiro had been. The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable like he knew it could be.  
  


He finally broke the prolonging quiet once they’d reached the foot of the mountain. Katsuki had hardly hesitated, starting along the well-worn trail they’d gone up every time. It cut straight through the heart of the forest, giving them a wonderful view of the greenery before breaking out of the woods and into open air.  
  


“Katsuki?” Eijiro said, quickening his pace a bit in order to catch up with the blonde. “What are you think about?”  
  


Katsuki shrugged, fiddling with a strap of the bag he’d been carrying all the while. Eijiro fully intended to take it back from him halfway up the mountain, even though he knew Katsuki would protest.  
  


“Things,” he said ominously, shoving his hands roughly in his pockets when messing with the bag’s strap didn’t prove distracting enough. Eijiro understood the feeling—sometimes, he’d find himself fiddling with anything and everything because he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. “Stuff. It doesn’t really concern you, shitty hair.”  
  


Eijiro hummed, unaffected by the harsh tone. “It might eventually,” Eijiro reminded, hardly trying to keep the hopeful note from his tone.  
  


When he was younger, Eijiro could only dream of having the chance to even be _near_ Katsuki. Now, he had a shot of marrying him and he was savoring every moment. Every second felt like magic, and Eijiro never wanted it to end.  
  


Some parts weren’t so wonderful. Eijiro knew something was up with the Akuyakuans—Dabi had been playing pretty nice with Shoto lately, but the other two were confusing as all hell. Adding Izuku’s dad in the mix did nothing to help tide over Eijiro’s befuddlement.  
  


Plus, there was the ever-growing conflict between Katsuki and his parents. Eijiro knew they disagreed—a lot. No one person knew exactly to what extent it went—hopefully not as bad as Shoto and his father, because Eijiro would feel like such a fucking idiot if he’d managed to overlook something like _that_ —but they could guess it wasn’t fun. Eijiro loved his mom to death—he couldn’t imagine fighting with her every other day.  
  


Or every day.  
  


Or maybe _several_ times a day.  
  


Yeah. Things between Katsuki and his parents were fucked up.  
  


Eijiro thought—suddenly—that Katsuki might not even know Denki and Hitoshi were okay. Aizawa had told them what felt like ages ago— _but it hadn’t been that long_ —that they were alright.  
  


Katsuki hadn’t been there.  
  


It wasn’t what he was referring to, now, Eijiro thought, because that seemed like something Katsuki might _actually_ open up about. Eijiro was still spooked over it, and woke up crying at night from nightmares about it, more often than not. He hadn’t told anyone, though, minus Hound Dog.  
  


It still came to mind, and Eijiro felt a well of guilt bubble up in his throat. Katsuki deserved to know. Eijiro reminded himself firmly to talk to Aizawa about it. He only kept his mouth shut now because he didn’t want to risk talking about it without Aizawa’s permission. Especially with the man’s job on the line. Possibly even his life.  
  


“It’ll concern me if I win,” he continued, suddenly wishing _he_ had a bag strap to pick at as a distraction.  
  


He didn’t though, so he deferred to picking at his already chewed off nails. They were already gone down to his nail beds, and when he picked the edges off, some skin went with it. Eijiro wasn’t too concerned in the moment, though he knew he would be later. His thumb still stung from when he’d done the same thing a few days before.  
  


“Whatever. I guess,” Katsuki muttered. He absently kicked a rock, striding forwards slightly ahead of Eijiro. Eijiro let him, patiently waiting all the while. A long silence passed between them, before Katsuki continued, “I’m fucking scared, alright? Things are really fucked up, and I’m scared.”  
  


Eijiro let out a whoosh of breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The truth had come out, but he didn’t feel any lighter for it.  
  


“It’s alright to be scared.” Eijiro’s voice was soft, nearly drowned out by Katsuki’s heavy-footed stomping, but Eijiro could tell by the sag of his shoulders that Katsuki had heard him. “I get scared a lot, you know. Sometimes, they’ll make perfect sense. Sometimes, it’s just dumb stuff that’s got me worked up over nothing.”  
  


Katsuki doesn’t say anything. Eijiro waits, and waits, but there’s nothing. Nothing but a heavy, weighted silence and the feeling that Eijiro hasn’t done enough.  
  


He continues, “You know, I’m scared of my roots showing?” Katsuki looks back slightly, glancing at Eijiro out of his peripheral, before facing forwards adamantly. “It’s really dumb, I know. But, whenever I see my black roots showing, I kinda freak out a bit.  
  


“I used to be really shy, and stuff. And kind of a doormat. Dying my hair . . . felt like starting a new chapter of my life. It was like I became a new me. And whenever I see that black creeping back in, I feel like I’m gonna go back to being that scared, timid boy that I was.”  
  


The silence stretched long and thin between them, broken only by the occasional snap of a twig and the crushing of leaves beneath their feet. Eijiro let the silence hang for a beat—two, three—before hammering the final nail in the coffin.  
  


“We all get scared sometimes,” he said. “Sometimes, we get scared of things most people probably think is stupid. But we’ve all got our reasons—I’ve got mine, you’ve got yours. No one’s judging you, man.”  
  


Katsuki stopped, and Eijiro followed suit. He stood frozen for a few breathless moments, before turning towards Eijiro with a furious expression that the redhead could tell wasn’t directed at him.  
  


“I’m scared,” he said in a small, angry voice. Eijiro thought it was almost more terrifying than the yelling. “I’m fucking scared, because we might go to war and I don’t think we’re gonna win. And if we don’t—then—then they’re gonna—”  
  


He wasn’t done, so Eijiro didn’t say anything. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, hardly _breathed_ for fear of breaking Katsuki from whatever fear-filled trance he’d gotten himself into. Katsuki needed this, Eijiro could tell, and he was going to let him have the moment to rant without interruption.  
  


“They’re gonna kill me,” Katsuki finished, falling to his knees in a saddened heap. “And _I don’t want to fucking die!”  
  
_

The words echoed across the empty expanse of forest. His sobs echoed, too. Eijiro deigned that the moment to move, footsteps crunching across dirt and dry leaves as he made his way towards Katsuki.  
  


Eijiro fell to his knees in front of him, wrapping him up in a hug that he knew he needed. Katsuki didn’t fight him, but he didn’t hug back either. He just hung limply in Eijiro’s arm, muffled sobs ringing like a never-ending mantra in Eijiro’s head.  
  


Eijiro could tell when the tears stopped. Katsuki stiffened in his hold slightly, going suddenly and worryingly quiet. He didn’t pull away, though, and so Eijiro held on steadfastly.  
  


“Feel better?” He muttered, squeezing Katsuki in a warm hug.  
  


Katsuki’s whole body seemed to sigh as he sagged against Eijiro, finally wrapping one arm around his back to return the hug. “Yeah,” he whispered, voice breaking over the syllable. “Thanks, I guess.”  
  


Eijiro shrugged, careful not to jostle Katsuki too much with the movement. “I could tell you needed it.”  
  


Katsuki pulled back then, though Eijiro didn’t let him get far. He pressed a soft, chaste kiss against Katsuki’s forehead—something his mother had done for him to soothe him when he was younger.  
  


Eijiro took away his arm then, allowing Katsuki some space to maneuver on his own.  
  


“Now,” Eijiro continued, voice a deadly calm, “we’re going to figure out a way to _win this war_. No way in hell am I going to sit here and let you die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldnt go reading chapter 290 of the bnha manga and NOT write a scene starring dabi and shoto. (if you dont want spoilers for the recent chapter, dont read the rest of this paragraph) but wow that chapters got me fucked up. Like- YES FINALLY endeavwhore is getting called out on his bullshit and is gonna face some real repercussions. I'm also like- how is this gonna affect Natsuo fuyumi and shoto? And as happy as I am about dabis reveal, I'm also still salty that his original plan was to kill shoto. like-no. Just no.
> 
> Anyways, now that I've got that rant out of the way, back to the fic! We recently hit 10,000 hits and I'm SO HAPPY. Thank you guys so much for your continued support of this fic, any and all hits, comments, or kudos mean so much to me! <3
> 
> Here's a list of the remaining elite plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro - Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku - Six  
> Todoroki Shoto - Two  
> Ashido Mina - Five  
> Monoma Neito - Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco - Seven
> 
> Only two more dates (and a platonic todobaku scene, but it'll probably be combined with a date chapter) and then the group date with the next elimination.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll have another one out on Friday!


	62. Our Advantage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been recently (very recently) considering making a spin-off 'what-if' series related to this fic (since someone left a comment on one of the earlier chapters related to it). It'd mostly be stuff like 'what-if this person won instead of this' or other things like 'what if Monoma hadn't ratted out what shinkami were doing' or just other general ideas that might change how the plot played out here. So, would anyone be interested in that if I made it?? If so, feel free to leave suggestions on what you'd like to see or if you'd just be interested in general ^^
> 
> Enjoy!

Eijiro’s room was comfortably warm.  
  


They’d lobbed ideas back and forth during the rest of the way up the mountain, and promptly lost all train of thought once they’d reached the top and were met, yet again, with that familiarly breathtaking view. Katsuki had brought a camera just for the occasion, snapping picture after picture of the grounds below, colored in warm honey-due color from the sun. He’d made sure to get one of Eijiro, too, though he’d done it just sneakily enough that he hadn’t noticed.  
  


On the trip back down, they’d discussed everything and nothing, a silent agreement between them that they’d talk more about the war—and as much as Katsuki wanted to avoid that fate, it was inevitable—when they were elsewhere. Katsuki was sweating and breathing heavy from the hike, and wasn’t exactly in the right mindset to be talking strategy.  
  


He’d had a long bath and a good night’s rest, now. Eijiro had stopped him after breakfast, giving him a long look. He’d then followed up with asking Katsuki if he’d come with him to his room. Katsuki didn’t need to ask why—he just knew.  
  


Eijiro was still fiddling with the fireplace, holding out his hands to check if it was warm enough. Katsuki could already tell it was—but he got the distinct feeling Eijiro was just trying to collect his thoughts. Katsuki was glad for it, because it gave him the chance to do the same.  
  


“So,” Eijiro said, finally settling down beside Katsuki, a pillow squished beneath where he had decided to sit, legs crossed comfortably. Katsuki silently offered to share his blanket, which Eijiro took him up on, huddling up beside him. “We, uh, kinda need to talk.”  
  


“Yeah,” Katsuki replied despondently. He wasn’t looking at Eijiro—instead focused on the flames. It was starting the burn his eyes, but he didn’t look away. “Akuyaku will be tough to beat.”  
  


Eijiro tugged gently at Katsuki’s chin, drawing in his gaze without saying a word. Katsuki stared at the boy before him, and was instantly reminded exactly why Eijiro had stood out so much to him from the start. He truly was beautiful.  
  


Katsuki wasn’t used to seeing this calm, serious expression on Eijiro’s face. Eijiro was always smiling—and when he wasn’t, he had good reason. After Katsuki’s pitiful declaration the other day, maybe he considered it a good enough reason to drop the lighthearted atmosphere. Katsuki instantly missed his smile, but kept quiet.  
  


“They’ve got the advantage of numbers and battle experience,” Eijiro reminded calmly. Katsuki had the urge to snap at him that he _already fucking knew that_ , but swallowed the words down. Eijiro wouldn’t be upset with him if he did—Eijiro was too kind, too understanding—but it wouldn’t be fair on him regardless. He wasn’t the thing Katsuki was upset with, and they both knew it. “Our advantage is—well, er, what _is_ our advantage?”  
  


Katsuki thought. Shizuoka was a pretty middle-of-the-road kind of nation, try as the old hag might to change that. They were a jack of all trades, master of none type. It was slightly infuriating—every other nation or Kingdom alike had something they specialized in, or were known for. Shizuoka didn’t. It was something Katsuki intended to change once he took the throne.  
  


Akuyaku’s armies were undefeated, and that was the problem. They’d been slowly expanding their borders, overtaking any and all countries who strayed in their path of absolute dominance. Shizuoka had become the latest target, and their most recent move was most apparent in the arrival of Dabi, Toga, and Twice. And now, of all people, Izuku’s _dad_. That shocker had thrown Katsuki for a serious loop.  
  


They had a trick up their sleeve, he suspected. It wasn’t that hard to figure out their game plan, with how painfully obvious they were being. Katsuki didn’t have much of any proof, just a solid hunch that he had a pretty good feeling was right. They’d already gotten their way inside the palace, and had plenty enough time to explore.  
  


As it was now, all the signs seemed to lead towards a victory on Akuyaku’s side. But, one thing they didn’t have and _never_ had was—  
  


“Allies,” Katsuki said, mind running a mile a minute. “We don’t have much over them, but we’ve got allies. Tentative alliances—but lots of them. Shizuoka’s made a _lot_ of powerful unions over the years.”  
  


“Bingo!” Eijiro shouted. His familiar, shark-toothed smile was back, slightly more devilish than Katsuki was used to, but handsome all the same. “Think they’d be willing to help?”  
  


“Most,” he guessed, making a so-so gesture with his hand as he spoke. “Like I said, they’re _tentative_ alliances. Some are pretty new, too.”  
  


“So—how much time do you think we have?”  
  


“Until the end of the Selection,” Katsuki said, watching a million different emotions flicker in Eijiro’s eyes, before finally settling into thoughtfulness.  
  


“Then we’ve got to strengthen relations with allied nations before then,” Eijiro said, biting his lip. “The only question is _how_.”  
  


Katsuki grinned, a metaphorical lightbulb going off in his mind.  
  


“I think I know what to do.”

* * *

The process of buying his way up to Six was surprisingly efficient. He was glad for it, since it meant things were progressing a lot quicker than they’d planned.  
  


As it was, getting a job at the palace was the last of their priorities. Marriage was at the top. It wouldn’t be anything particularly fancy, and their rings were simple bits of twine tied together, for the time being, but they made it work.  
  


Their wedding hadn’t been anything special. There was no specified time or date, so Tenya and Hatsume were the only ones who came. Tenya officiated, though he’d read from a handbook nearly word-for-word. It was stiff, and a little awkward, and Denki’s ring fell apart halfway through Hitoshi putting it on, but they laughed it away and were husbands by the end of the night.  
  


“Once we’re on our feet, and in a more comfortable spot financially,” Hitoshi had said to him in the dead of night, hands tightly clasped together in a soft, cherished moment. “I’m going to give you a _proper_ wedding. With our friends there and _real_ rings that don’t fall apart every couple days. I promise.”  
  


Denki had cried, though he was smiling all the while. He didn’t need a fancy wedding or a pretty ring. He thought Hitoshi was plenty pretty enough. He’d said as much himself, and Hitoshi had turned a beautiful shade of red that made Denki grin.  
  


They didn’t have much funds left over after Denki had hopped up two castes. It had been slightly more expensive than buying both of them their way up to the caste of a Seven. It left a lot less money for shelter, but they found a decently cheap motel to stay at in the meantime. Denki found a job nearby, serving as a waiter at a cheap diner in the middle of nowhere.  
  


There wasn’t a lot of customers, and any that they did get looked like they could hardly afford the food they bought, let alone a tip. It wasn’t much, but it was a job.  
  


Hitoshi found a job as a maid for some old rich dude he couldn’t recall the name of. He’d never had the chance to actually meet the guy. He’d been specifically hired by the man’s overpaid secretary, who didn’t seem particularly fond of having him work there, but begrudgingly admitted he got the work done quick.  
  


They didn’t have much of a chance to save up, what with having to pay rent. Whatever they did save up was mostly used on food and other necessities. They were able to set aside some money, though, in case anything involving their living situation happened to go downhill. With their infamy from the Selected, anything could happen. Denki and Hitoshi weren’t the most popular former candidates, especially because of what happened after New Year’s.  
  


A motel was much better than the streets, though. It had AC and blankets and warm beds, even if their room only had a twin, and the mattress was a little stiff. They switched off between using the bed each night, and the other had to sleep on the floor. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but they’d already tried sharing the bed and it had ended with Denki forcefully kicking Hitoshi out in his sleep. After that, a small mound of blankets and a pillow on the ground would do.  
  


Denki was still slightly sore from sleeping there the night before. The bed wasn’t much better, with its stiff mattress that smelled oddly reminiscent of mildew and bitter coffee. Sometimes they’d stay up late, talking or kissing or something else that left a hell of a mess, but left Denki just tired enough that the nightmares were chased away.  
  


Hitoshi had just gotten back from his recent shift, and had promptly curled up on the bed and passed out. Denki had been back for a bit, off from his job at the local diner. He had another shift in a couple hours, but he figured he might have just enough time to catch up on some sleep before he left.  
  


When he woke up, it was to the sound of rain and Hitoshi’s soft snoring. Judging by the sky outside, it had only been about an hour. Still plenty of time before he had to leave for work. Hitoshi had even longer.  
  


“Babe,” Denki whispered, crawling into the cramped space of the twin bed they’d never managed to successfully share before. Hitoshi startled slightly, blinking blearily at the sight of his—husband, Denki had to remind himself with an internal grin—on top of him, practically in his lap.  
  


“Denki?” He asked, wrapping a strong arm around the blonde’s waist. He didn’t seem too perturbed by Denki waking him up—their shifts were crazy, and alone time was rare. When they weren’t busy catching up on sleep, they were all over each other.  
  


“Sorry to wake you up,” Denki whispered, pressing his face into Hitoshi’s shoulder. “It’s been a bit, hasn’t it?”  
  


Hitoshi grinned lazily, scooting over to give Denki more space to spread out. Denki curled up against Hitoshi’s side, basking in the warmth he emanated, like a living furnace.  
  


“Yeah,” Hitoshi said, tiredness still pervading his tone. “What’s up?”  
  


Denki kissed him in lieu of response. It was slow, and soft—impossibly tender and filled with enough love to fill all of Hosu. Hitoshi didn’t miss a beat, moving his body against Denki’s in sync as they filled each other with a kind of warmth Denki had been craving for so long.  
  


Denki sighed into Hitoshi’s mouth, sagging against his side. “I missed you.”  
  


Hitoshi kissed him again, and it was as beautiful as every kiss they’d shared before. “I missed you, too.”  
  


The night was filled with love, and passion, and intense warmth that Denki couldn’t feel with anyone else. He could still feel the ghost of Hitoshi’s hot breath against his neck, sending shivers of warmth all the way to the tips of his toes.  
  


His coworker shot him a strange look, hardly even pausing in her work as she asked, “What’s wrong?”  
  


Denki grinned, and for once it felt impossibly genuine. “Nothing,” he said earnestly. “I’m just really, _really_ happy.”

* * *

Twice was confused.  
  


It was pretty much a constant for him, with his mind in shambles like it was. One moment he’d be thinking one thing, strong in his belief and unwilling to budge. The next, his mind was other places, wandering and wandering in circles until he found himself coming to the complete opposite conclusion. A lot of days he didn’t quite feel like himself, not wholly. Twice wasn’t really sure who _he_ even was, with all the other voices in his head vying for control.  
  


One thing he was sure of was this—war was not the answer. The other voices in his head thought differently, but Twice was adamant on staying firm with this. Twice had stolen and killed, but only when it had become necessary. It wasn’t anymore. He didn’t see the point in more unnecessary war and bloodshed.  
  


He kept the thoughts to himself. No one else seemed to agree, including the others crying out in his head. The mask seemed to help him feel more in control, though he couldn’t be sure why. He didn’t wear except when he was alone with his fellow Akuyakuans, and he’d come to realize that the voices were much softer then.  
  


It was easier for him to realize he _didn’t_ want war, with the mask on. His hands weren’t clean, but he didn’t think that was any reason to dirty them further.  
  


The only one he thought might understand was Dabi. As much as he cared for Toga, she definitely had an inclination towards making people bleed. She was often kind and considerate, if not a little creepy—though Twice couldn’t say he minded—but he didn’t think she’d be able to connect with him on this one.  
  


Dabi was an elusive figure. He’d been that way since Twice met him. He didn’t know anything about Dabi’s past—where he came from, how he wound up working for Sensei, or where the hell those scars came from—but he had a distinct feeling that Dabi was there for something more than just want.  
  


Perhaps, if Twice looked hard enough at the core of himself, he could be called a bleeding heart. He couldn’t be sure, with all the voices drowning out any real thoughts coming to mind. Twice had trouble being sure which opinion was even his own. He hoped talking about it would help.  
  


The mask fit snugly against his features. He could see through it perfectly fine, despite the thin fabric blocking his eyes from the outside world. It was a little hazy, but the voices were mostly quiet, so he preferred things this way.  
  


It was unsurprising to find Dabi in the gardens. He was with Keigo, though that was alright. Keigo was really nice, and even the strange voices—quiet as they were, now—seemed to agree.  
  


“Hey, Dabi!” He hoped he sounded more energetic than he felt. Sleep had refused to come the last week, and Twice could really go for a nap or two. “Can we talk, man?”  
  


The _‘privately’_ went unsaid, but they all three managed to pick up on it. Keigo stood up from the bench he and Dabi had been sitting on, talking about something Twice hadn’t picked up on before interrupting. The blonde brushed imaginary dirt off his trousers, smiling fixedly at Twice. It didn’t _seem_ fake, but the voices thought otherwise.  
  


“I’ve got something I need to go take care of,” he said. Twice couldn’t tell if it was the truth, or just a convenient excuse to leave. Either way, he went and neither Dabi nor Twice bothered to try and stop him.  
  


Dabi turned to face Twice once Keigo had disappeared from sight. His features were slightly blurred when looking through the mask, but it was clear he was curious, and a little apprehensive.  
  


They didn’t talk much. Dabi didn’t spend time talking much with _anyone_ , really. Another reason they knew so little about him. Twice had a feeling he had some deep, mysterious backstory to fit the emo vibes he radiated, but he never asked. The voices begged to know, and a part of Twice did, too, but he bit his tongue and focused on what else he’d come to talk about.  
  


“What’s up?” Dabi asked, when the silence persisted. Twice realized he’d been staring.  
  


“I’ve got a question, man,” he said finally, ignoring the voices telling him to turn around. He could muffle them, now, and felt more in control than he ever had before.  
  


“Shoot,” Dabi said nonchalantly, eyes half-lidded with feigned indifference and a hint of curiosity.  
  


“What do you think about the—you know what, nevermi— _no!_ ” Dabi started a little bit at his sudden outburst. Twice was more focused on reigning himself in. With a deep breath, he continued. “ _I’m in control_. What are your thoughts on the—the war?”  
  


Dabi looked like he wanted to say something on Twice’s mini-argument with himself, but to Twice’s relief, he didn’t. “I couldn’t care less. Why?”  
  


Not a single part of Twice was remotely surprised. That single sentence seemed to describe Dabi’s entire outlook on life, from what Twice had seen of him so far. It was why he’d come to him in the first place—for perhaps a bit of understanding, and some unbiased advice.  
  


“I don’t want us to—to go to war with Shizuoka,” he bit out. The words were slightly garbled as he forced them past gritted teeth, the voices protesting every word. The screamed for _war_ and _bloodshed_ and it took all of Twice’s willpower not to succumb to their inhumane urges. “I don’t like it.”  
  


“You sure?” He asked, cocking a brow in disbelief. “You seem a little tense, dude.”  
  


“I’m sure,” Twice confirmed, balling his hands into fists. His nails dug into the calloused skin of his palms, grounding him. “Our plan—I don’t _like it_. I don’t know what to do.”  
  


 _Kill them_ , the voices called, in a painfully lulling tone. _It’d be so easy_.  
  


“Then just do nothing,” Dabi suggested, his voice cutting its way through the others in Twice’s mind. “Or you could leave. But I doubt you’re going to.”  
  


He had a point. Twice had nowhere to go. People didn’t _want_ someone like Twice—the only place he’d ever been accepted was under Sensei’s tutelage. He disagreed with that man on almost everything, but he couldn’t deny that Sensei had been the first one to offer Twice a home.  
  


Dabi seemed like the same type. Cast out, with nowhere left to go except back to Akuyaku. Falling under Sensei’s command, because it was better than slumming it out on the streets, forcing to kill, and steal, and maim in order to survive. Twice was like that, too, probably one of the only things he could imagine him and Dabi being similar on.  
  


“I _can’t_ ,” he pushed out through gritted teeth. _You don’t want to,_ the voices disagreed. He kept the mask on firm, and drowned out the voices with his own. “But I don’t want to _kill anymore_.”  
  


Something cracked in Dabi’s expression, though it was too brief for Twice to make it out. Perhaps sympathy, or understanding.  
  


“Me either.” Dabi’s voice sounded painfully forlorn, familiar to Twice simply because his had sounded the same way. “Me either, man.”  
  


“Why haven’t you left?” He found himself asking. He’d wondered about Dabi for so long, without any sort of answer. Sensei was the only one who seemed to know the first thing about him. He remained a mystery to even Shigaraki, and that alone was a feat.  
  


“Why haven’t you?” Dabi shot back. Twice felt like flinching, but he held firm. “I’ve got nowhere to go.”  
  


“You’ve got the Prince,” Twice pointed out. Dabi may not have had a way to escape before, but he did now. Twice could understand his reluctance to leave before, but he couldn’t say he quite understood now. “You could go with him.”  
  


Dabi’s gaze was calculating as he continued, “It’s more complicated than that.”  
  


It always was, with Sensei.  
  


Sensei was the biggest mystery of all. He’d showed himself to Twice three years before, filling him with kind words and a warm home. He hadn’t cared about the voices, and took Twice under his wing regardless. Twice had made friends there, like he never had before. He’d met Toga, too, who was kind of creepy but all around beautiful and amazing. Twice thought he might love her, somewhere in his heart, but never said as much. She was a mystery, too, though Twice figured she might tell him more if he so much as asked.  
  


Twice hadn’t even known Sensei had a son, though. Nor a wife, or any sort of family. A family he _loved_ , too, in a way he tried so hard to cover up. Twice wasn’t the sharpest, but he could hear the clear note of fondness in his tone when he spoke of the Midoriya's.  
  


There was a lot Twice didn’t know, it seemed. He felt like a fool for trusting Sensei so blindly. He hadn’t been led astray thus far, but maybe it was time for him to try and make it on his own. Maybe Toga would come with him. Maybe Dabi would find a chance at his own freedom, too, some time.  
  


“Thanks, Dabi,” he said, though the words didn’t feel sincere. “I think I know what to do now.”  
  


It was a lie, one they both recognized. Twice never was a good liar. Dabi didn’t call him out, though, only watching him leave with an expression Twice couldn’t discern through the haze of his mask.  
  


He had a lot to think about, and less answers than he thought he’d get. Dabi was right, though, in one sense—Twice could either do nothing, or leave. If he did nothing, the war would go on, but he wouldn’t have to be a part of it. And if he left, the same would be true, but only then he wouldn’t have a home anymore. He wouldn’t play a part in any more devious schemes, though, which was ultimately what he wanted.  
  


Twice had an idea, and it might be foolish, but it was an idea that _he_ decided on. The voices cried and screamed, and his head pounded from the noise, but he didn’t let them change his mind this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, okay, writing Twice was r e a l l y hard. Like, I love him, but I was kinda struggling. Sorry if his scene at the end was kind of a mess
> 
> Also, sorry for the lack of dates this chapter. Hopefully the small bit of shinkami fluff made up for it??
> 
> Here's a list of the remaining Elite:  
> Kirishima Eijiro - Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku - Six  
> Todoroki Shoto - Two  
> Ashido Mina - Five  
> Monoma Neito - Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco - Seven
> 
> I promise next chapter will have a date. Probably a Tenya scene, too, and more Twice POV because I like making things hard for myself apparently.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and the next one will be out on Tuesday! <3


	63. I'm Still Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the chapter seems rushed, thats because it is. For some reason I decided to procrastinate and then binge-write the whole chapter in a day like the idiot I am :>
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (P.S. this is unrelated to this fic but is there an eng dub version of AOT? I cant read fast enough and keep missing things XD)

Collecting information from the palace staff was easier than Neito expected. A little cash was precisely enough to loosen their lips, and the secrets flowed like waterfalls.  
  


It was annoying how unbearably _pure_ the lot of them were. So far, the only dirt he’d scrounged up had been about Shoto. There was a mild rumor about Izuku, but a rumor was enough for him, for now.  
  


The others he’d simply have to take care of on his own. His biggest threat went from solely Eijiro, to everyone left. Minus Shoto—who Neito hardly counted anymore, and continuously wondered why he was still even _here_ —the rest of the Elite had all been kissed. In fact, they’d gotten a plentiful amount of attention, and Neito was seriously running dry.  
  


It was pure luck that got him this far. If he wanted to win, he needed to step up his game, and by a _lot_.  
  


Neito had a date today, and he wasn’t going to mess up this chance. His maids had, for once, come through for him with, by far, the most dashing outfit he’d seen thus far. Katsuki was _sure_ to pay attention to him with this on.  
  


Neito would be ending the night with a kiss, that much was certain. Once he had Katsuki wrapped around his finger, he’d take out the competition—one by one.

* * *

Twice had come to Toga with a plan. It was a little wild, but seemed pretty fun all the same. She didn’t really understand _why_ it was necessary, but it was _Twice_ so she went along with it, anyways.  
  


It would mean working against Sensei, though. It was a sour thought to have—Sensei had done more for her than any other. He’d given her a home, and lots of promises that he’d managed to so far uphold. Toga got to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted and no one complained. The freedom was positively exhilarating.  
  


Being around Twice wasn’t bad, though. He could be a little strange sometimes, but Toga was strange, too. She didn’t judge. Neither did he, and that was maybe her favorite thing about him.  
  


Not to mention he was pretty.  
  


Twice seemed to think she was pretty, too, though he never said as much. Toga was impossibly perceptive, despite everyone believing she was nothing but a ditz. Twice didn’t, though, and that was just another thing to like about him.  
  


Twice promised her good things, too, if she went along with his plan. He’d seemed earnest at the time, expression open, and Toga didn’t find any reason not to listen. So she said yes, and the plan would be implemented the night Katsuki would announce the winner of the Selection.  
  


She felt a grin creep up at her expression at the thought. This would be so much fun.

* * *

Katsuki wasn’t a particularly empathetic person, but he felt the slightest bit of guilt with how little attention he’d been giving Neito. He liked the guy, but he had to admit he’d been focusing a lot on the other Elite lately. It was part of why he’d decided to have a date with him, and a day-long one at that.  
  


He had a lot of things planned, mostly suggested to him by Akira. Despite her having never dated before, she still remained to be ten times better than any of this romance bullshit than Katsuki. Even several months into the Selection and he still didn’t know what the hell he was doing.  
  


He didn’t bother dressing too nice. They’d be going horse-back riding after breakfast, and there was every chance he’d manage to get dirty on the trip. He planned to stop in the same pasture him and Eijiro had shared a picnic in on their first date, though there would be no need for food this time around. Just a wide, open expanse and a chance to immerse themselves in nature and escape the confining walls of the palace.  
  


If anyone could understand what it felt like to be overwhelmed by expectation and trapped by duty, it might be either Neito or Shoto. Neito, however, seemed to have much more earnest interests than Shoto. Perhaps they’d be able to bond over that fact, or find more common ground.  
  


Katsuki had an upcoming elimination planned. He intended to finish this Selection soon—with just enough time to implement his and Eijiro’s plan, but short enough that the Elite’s families wouldn’t have to go along without the originally promised compensation for long. Katsuki still felt kind of bad about that one, though he could get why his parents were doing it.  
  


He’d been thinking on the next elimination long and hard. There were a few people he was certain he didn’t want to leave, and only a couple left that he was even remotely uncertain about. The thought of having to send _anyone_ home left a bitter taste in his mouth. Eventually, it’d be just him and one other, and the thought was hard to bear.  
  


He didn’t have a firm idea in mind of who he’d be sending home, but he hoped his date today would help clear some things up. Katsuki was certain that by the end of the week, they’d be down to only five Elite.  
  


Neito was already out in the stables when Katsuki arrived. The stable-hand nervously bowed at Katsuki’s arrival, shuffling off quickly when Katsuki said he wouldn’t need any assistance.  
  


“You ever ridden before?” Katsuki asked, fetching the horse he usually rode with and saddling her up. He stroked a palm through her mane all the while, earning some pleased whinnies at the attention.  
  


“I have,” Neito confirmed, proving this even further by prepping his own horse without help. The horse seemed a little shy around the stranger, but warmed up quickly when Neito was so kind enough to scratch gently at his mane. “I get a lot of thinking done while horse-back riding.”  
  


Katsuki could understand the sentiment. He’d used to go riding simply to enjoy the fresh air whipping against his skin. It was the greatest taste of freedom he could feel while remaining tethered back to the palace.  
  


He could also get a lot done while riding on the back of his horse. When left in the presence of nothing but the cool air and his horse’s hooves pounding against the soil, Katsuki would just sit, and think. He let his instincts guide him, and allowed himself the time to work out whatever had been bothering him at the time.  
  


When Neito mounted his horse, he did it in one smooth, fluid motion. It was much different from how Eijiro had been—awkward and terribly unused to it. He’d ended up facing entirely the wrong direction. He’d eventually managed it, with Katsuki’s help, and they’d both ended up laughing.  
  


Neito didn’t need any help, so Katsuki only bothered himself with mounting his own horse. The sensation of riding her was familiar to him by now, with how often he’d go out when he was younger. His horse was starting to get older, now, and couldn’t run the same as she had in the past, but Katsuki wasn’t too concerned. He’d miss her when she was gone, but he didn’t need her to do any crazy runs or jumps. Some exercise might even do her some good.  
  


Neito seemed content to let Katsuki lead the way. The blonde’s horse was trotting a pace or two behind his, keeping up nicely while also giving Katsuki the chance to call the shots.  
  


“I’ve got a place for us to go to,” Katsuki said to fill the silence, earning a soft hum in answer.  
  


“It’s nice out today,” Neito said, and Katsuki had half a mind to point out how fucking obvious that was. He didn’t, though, swallowing back his sharp remark. “I love horse-back riding on days like this.”  
  


“Yeah?” Katsuki said, instead of whatever snark that came to mind. Something about Neito just made him want to pick a fight, and Katsuki was having to fight back the urge. “Personally, I like it when it’s hotter. Nothing like riding full speed ahead in the middle of summer.”  
  


Neito sighs, and Katsuki can practically feel the exasperated smile in his tone as he says, “I always got so sweaty on those kinds of days. A cold shower was my favorite thing afterwards.”  
  


Katsuki sighs, remembering the days of his childhood. He’d ridden often back then, especially in the glaring heat of summer. He liked the feeling of being out in the open, drenched in sweat. It was so much different from the sheltered environment he was trapped in at the palace, so he kept going out, even though he’d reek when he came back.  
  


“I like the heat,” Katsuki said simply, winding his way around a grassy hill. Neito followed along dutifully, quiet in contemplation and concentration. “We’re almost there.”  
  


He could already see the grassy pasture he’d taken Eijiro to, before. He and Eijiro had gone further up the hill, but he and Neito would be walking the trek upwards to save his horse the journey. He could tell she was starting to wear out. He’d remembered to bring her food, and was pretty sure there was a stream nearby she could drink from, if his memory served him correctly.  
  


The first thing he did when they arrived was feed his horse a couple apples that he’d tucked safely away in a satchel she had strapped to her side. His horse chowed down greedily, downing three apples in the span of two minutes.  
  


He let her wander for a bit as he and Neito did the same. To his relief, the horse Neito had taken up on riding seemed content to follow his horse along as she sought out a source of water. He was a little nervous leaving them untied, but kept it in mind to keep an eye on them while he was with Neito.  
  


The hill wasn’t steep, luckily, so it was an easy trek. Neito easily kept pace with Katsuki, falling immediately into step beside him once they’d dismounted their horses.  
  


“It’s pretty,” he said simply, yet earnestly.  
  


Katsuki agreed. He’d stumbled upon the area by chance, but continued coming back to explore more and more of the land around it. It had been a while before the Selection that he’d come, but he was surprised to realize he still knew the way like the back of his hand. Coming here was almost instinctual for him, now, with how often he’d come and go in the past.  
  


His horse could probably find her way on her own if she wanted, with how much Katsuki had ridden her out to this exact field. It was just far off from any forms of life that the grass was wild, and unkempt, and untampered by human hand.  
  


Katsuki thought that might be what he loved most about this place. It was so far from civilization that he could safely come here and not have to wonder or worry over someone coming to bother him. Not even his parents knew this place existed, and Katsuki had been perfectly content to keep it that way all the while.  
  


“It’s quiet, too,” Katsuki pointed out. He plopped himself down once they’d reached the crest of the hill, breathing in the fresh air and allowing himself a careful moment to just stop and take it all in. Neito was quiet for a moment beside him, though Katsuki could feel his curious gaze boring holes into the side of his head. “No one really knows about this place. That’s why I love it.”  
  


He opened his eyes a moment when he felt Neito’s gaze shift away. The blonde was running a hand carefully through overgrown blades of grass. His expression was hard to read, though Katsuki thought it to be a mixture between contemplative silence and wondering admiration.  
  


“I can understand the appeal,” Neito said, shrugging. “I used to like to get away, too. I had special places of my own.”  
  


Katsuki figured as much. He’d met other young royalty his age before, mostly during one of his father’s negotiations, and they’d bonded over the same thing. They’d all mentioned liking to get away now and then just to escape their responsibilities back home. Neito wasn’t royalty like Katsuki or any of the others, but he was about as close to royalty as a civilian could get.  
  


He has a few spots he likes to go to when he wants to feel free, but this is comfort space. He’s been here enough times that he could wander aimlessly for miles and still know exactly where he was. No other place quite compared to this one, and most of the other nice spots he’d found connected back to this hill.  
  


“Places?”  
  


Neito shrugs, seeming slightly miffed. Katsuki has the feeling the emotion isn’t directed towards him. “We moved a lot. We weren’t ever in one place quite long enough for me to grow familiar. My parents and siblings have settled down, recently, since the Selection started. I think I’ll move out of that place, if I don’t win. Finally start my _own_ life.”  
  


Katsuki sighed, imagining what it would be like to never have to be tied down to one place. He’d been at the palace so long that all the wonderment had faded, leaving him bored and resentful of his confining home. The castle was nothing but a brilliant cage, but a cage nonetheless.  
  


He thinks he’d like being able to go wherever he wants, whenever he wants. Katsuki has only ever been in the nearby area, really, though he’d gotten some of his first tastes of what it were like farther out when he went to Funabashi with Mina. It’d be nice to get the chance to travel all over Shizuoka—finally experience the nation he’d be leading firsthand.  
  


“That’d be cool,” he says, wistfully picturing it in his mind. “Going places whenever.”  
  


“It’s lonely,” Neito corrects, knees huddled up to his chest. “Leaving behind everyone you care about. I’ve never really had friends before now, to be honest.”  
  


Katsuki snorts, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “I don’t think that’s just because of you moving.”  
  


The tense atmosphere is broken with the words, but neither of them seem to mind. Neito’s face immediately reddens as he sputters his indignant protests. Katsuki is laughing too loudly to hear him, regardless.  
  


Once Katsuki’s laughs die down, a comfortable silence falls between them. The air between them feels light. Out of the corner of his eye, Katsuki spots his and Neito’s horses, chasing each other in circles playfully. A grin tugs at the corners of his lips at the sight.  
  


Katsuki stands up, brushing dirt off his pants before holding a hand out for Neito to take. The blonde does, albeit reluctantly, letting Katsuki hoist him up to his feet.  
  


“C’mon,” Katsuki calls without turning around, already making his way carefully down the grassy hillside. “Lemme show you around.”  
  


The crunch of grass is the only indication Katsuki gets that Neito is following. They disappear into the woods a moment later, with Katsuki leading the way and Neito less than a pace behind.

* * *

It was painfully easy to trick Katsuki. The thing was, Neito wasn’t even tricking him _that_ much. The things he’d said had been mostly true, if not a bit over exaggerated.  
  


His family was always moving around. Whatever friends Neito _did_ make he ended up leaving behind, and basically never heard from them again. The small group of friends he’d made here were a nice change of pace, even though Tetsutetsu and Shiozaki were still staying far away. They always made an effort to stay in touch, and that was more than Neito could say of any of his friends in the past.  
  


It was probably one of the best parts about coming to the palace. Friendship had hardly been a word in Neito’s vocabulary growing up. Eventually, he stopped making an effort and focused instead on his dreams and ambitions. With his resources, he’d made it to the good life easily.  
  


Now he had a chance at something even _better_. It was the chance of a lifetime, and one he simply could not pass up. Getting into the Selection alone had been a mere stroke of luck, but Neito had worked _hard_ to get himself into the precarious position he was in.  
  


If he wasn’t Katsuki’s top choice as it is now, then he’d _make_ himself the only available option. He’d been slowly paying off the palace staff to pass along any incriminating gossip they had circulating around, but so far there hadn’t been much pertaining to the personal lives of the Elite. He’d learned a lot of other useful information, though, mostly revolving around Akuyaku.  
  


Recently, though, a guard in particular had mentioned something particularly _troublesome_ that one of the Elite had said. That being, Shoto Todoroki. Neito had too much dirt on him to keep track of, but he hoarded the information in the hopes that something would happen just bad enough to tip the scales in his favor.  
  


It seems that something had finally come.  
  


According to the guard, who’d fessed up after Neito tauntingly wagged a stack of yen in front of his face, Shoto had shouted _“I love you!”_ to _somebody_. Neito already knew it wouldn’t be Katsuki he said it to. Not even five minutes later, Izuku Midoriya had ran out of the room, looking as if he were about to cry.  
  


One of Izuku’s own maids had said that he came back to his room in a fit of tears, and had been completely unresponsive to any of their attempts to help.  
  


Neito wasn’t entirely sure what all went down in Shoto’s room that day. He suspected it might’ve been more than _just_ a love confession, though he had no way of telling. The only two people who had been in the room were Shoto and Izuku, and anyone else had only heard or saw the aftermath.  
  


It was the juiciest thing Neito had discovered in a while. If he wanted to know more, he needed to do some reconnaissance.  
  


If those two weren’t talking—and they clearly weren’t, _everyone_ could feel the tension in the Selected’s parlor the other day—then who else would they go to about it? Izuku might talk to Ochaco, but that’s a big _‘might’_. It’s a pretty dangerous topic to be talking about, where anyone could overhear.  
  


Shoto might tell someone, though—and Neito knows _exactly_ who.

* * *

Rain slid smoothly against the rough material of Tenya’s rain jacket. The dirt turned to mud beneath his feet, echoing a loud _squish_ with every step. He regrets not having heeded Mei’s warnings about an upcoming thunderstorm, and disregarding her advice to bring an umbrella. He had allowed her to force him into an uncomfortably large rain jacket, however, which he now found himself silently thanking her for.  
  


Despite the pounding rain beating down, the bouquet Tenya had brought for Tensei stayed strong through the fearsome weather. They glowed a brilliant blue against the darkening sky, hardly drooping as they lie atop Tensei’s grave.  
  


Tenya hadn’t come to visit in a while, too overcome with emotions. He wishes his brother were here to see him now—on the way to get married, and start his own life away from home. Tenya only wishes Tensei could’ve been there to see it all.  
  


He deigns to tell him all about it, instead. The logical part of him whispers that _Tensei is gone, he can’t hear you_ , but the part of him that misses his brother holds out hope that wherever Tensei is now, he’s got an ear out for his brother’s voice, always listening in.  
  


He tells Tensei all about Mei, and Denki and Hitoshi and their situation. Tenya explains how he and Mei are getting married, and he expects their wedding to be some time soon, with the pace Mei’s been going at. It seems she can’t wait for them to officially be husband and wife, and her enthusiasm has really been starting to rub off on him.  
  


A small, sad smile finds its way onto Tenya’s face. A part of him wants to be happy—he _is_ happy, with Mei and with his friends, even if they only talk via letters. Another part of him hates how happy he’s become, when Tensei will never get to smile again, or share a laugh.  
  


The tears come then, hot and wet and persistent. Tenya doesn’t bother choking them back down like he might with Mei. He hated the sad, pitiful look she’d direct towards him whenever he cried over Tensei. He saved his tears for now, when he was all alone at his brother’s grave, mourning over the greatest man Tenya’s ever known.  
  


_I’m still here, brother_ , Tensei’s voice says, but it’s all a figment of his imagination. Tenya clenches his eyes shut, tugging at his chest, and right over his heart. He can almost feel invisible fingers brushing against his own, Tensei’s voice returning to whisper, _I’ll always be with you, right here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the general lack of Monoma content in this fic. I can't write his character a t a l l
> 
> Even though hes an asshole (and I'll never forgive him for what he did to kamishin here) he's also kind of amazingly hilarious in canon so yes <3
> 
> Here's a list of the remaining Elite plus their caste :P :  
> Kirishima Eijiro - Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku - Six  
> Todoroki Shoto - Two  
> Ashido Mina - Five  
> Monoma Neito - Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco - Seven
> 
> Tenya's so sweet I love him. and Tensei. god they're both just amazing
> 
> Next chapter is the elimination! Not yay, but, like, f i n a l l y. They're going to the beeeach (because I couldn't resist XD) and Katsuki's sending someone home >:) I really hope its unexpected, but in a good way?
> 
> AND if I don't forget (which I might) we might be hearing from someone unexpected in the next chapter? But like I also might forget because I'm a big doof **(edit: I 100% forgot because I'm staring at this sentence rn and wondering what the hell I was talking about)**
> 
> Anyways, the next chapter will be out on Friday! See you guys then! <3


	64. Day At the Beach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised an elimination this chapter but there won't be one, I'm sorry :<
> 
> I'm splitting the date up into two parts because something came up recently and I haven't really felt like writing for this fic for the past couple days, sorry. The rest will be out on the next update, I can promise that much
> 
> Sorry for breaking it up into two parts, but I hope you enjoy regardless!

The weather was notably warmer tonight. Ochaco still wrapped herself up in a warm sweater, regardless, but she could feel the warm air against the bare skin of her palms.  
  


Footsteps resounded quietly behind her, too light to be Katsuki’s. Mina, then, or perhaps another wandering soul finding solace in the bright lights and constellations.  
  


“Hey,” Mina’s voice said, confirming Ochaco’s original assumption. The girl came up behind her, pausing a moment as she sat herself down on the cool concrete. “Someone’s going home tomorrow.”  
  


Ochaco shrugged, “Katsuki didn’t say that.”  
  


Ochaco could practically feel the _look_ Mina shot her without even having to glance over at her. Neither of them believed Ochaco’s words, no matter how much she may try to convince herself. As much as Katsuki tried to play tough, he wasn’t nearly as good at concealing his emotions as he thought. His expression had seemed sour when he’d come to tell them about their group date.  
  


If it hadn’t been for his uneasy mood, Ochaco might have been more excited. They were going away to visit a beach, despite it being the middle of March and still a bit nippy. Ochaco bet wherever they were going, it would be warm despite that.  
  


She’d never visited a beach, before. She didn’t live anywhere near one, and couldn’t afford to travel long distances. It would be a pretty cool opportunity, but her nerves overtook her excitement. What if this was her last night in the palace?  
  


Mina gripped Ochaco’s hand tightly, offering her a reassuring smile as if she could hear Ochaco’s thoughts as clearly as her own. “If one of us goes home,” she began, voice soft but not somber, “we’ll all still be friends. That’s not going to change.”  
  


“I don’t want to leave,” Ochaco muttered, not bothering to let go of Mina’s hand. Her touch was soothing, and she clung to it with a desperate air she refused to let show on the outside. “I’d miss you guys so much!”  
  


Mina dashed forwards, tucking Ochaco into a warm, comforting hug. Ochaco clung back like a koala, blinking back a sudden assault of salty tears. They slipped past anyways, falling down her cheeks and dripping onto the thin fabric of Mina’s nightgown.  
  


“Listen,” Mina said. She pulled back, holding firm on Ochaco’s shoulders, keeping her in place and simultaneously forcing her to meet her eyes. “Don’t give up yet, okay? You’re not leaving! And if you do, we’re not going anywhere. I’ll send letters every day, if you want me to!”  
  


Ochaco laughed. It was a small, timid sound, but a laugh all the same. She brushed away stray tears still fighting their way down her cheeks, forcing a smile. Though she didn’t feel completely herself, the smile helped to boost her mood.  
  


“And I promise I’ll do the same, if it’s you who has to go.” Ochaco felt another wave of sadness at the prospect of her or Mina leaving. She doesn’t want to be the only girl left, and Ochaco can imagine Mina might be having similar thoughts. “And if I go out, win for me?”  
  


Mina held her fist out, and Ochaco didn’t hesitate in bringing hers up to bump it against Mina’s.  
  


“Definitely,” Mina said, smiling assuredly. “If _I_ go out, I’m totally rooting for you, girl!”  
  


Ochaco went to sleep with a smile on her face that night, and bubbling excitement for the day lying ahead.

* * *

Neito had learned more than he bargained for when deciding to follow Dabi. Neito had long since learned of the man’s relation to Shoto, if common sense hadn’t already pointed out as much to him.  
  


Dabi was probably the most likely person for Shoto to confide in. The man already had the strong bond of blood between them, not to mention his utter lack of devotion towards Shizuoka. He had no attachments here, and even less reason to rat his own brother out.  
  


After several weeks of close following and keeping a mindful ear, he had figured out exactly what had gone down between Shoto and Izuku that day, and it was the ultimate blackmail material. He’d also learned a _lot_ more about what exactly was going on behind the scenes. The information left an uncomfortable churning feeling residing in his gut.  
  


He had to say, it was pretty stupid of them to go about talking so openly about what they were planning. To Neito’s utter aggravation, they didn’t reveal anything substantial enough to give him anything more than a general idea of what they’re going to do, and when.  
  


Based on what he heard, he could figure they had something nefarious planned for the day Katsuki announced the winner of the Selection. He didn’t know _what_ exactly, but it was a given that it wasn’t anything good.  
  


Neito should’ve been expecting this. Akuyaku and Shizuoka’s relationship had been strained for years, and war seemed like a given at that point. The royal family was trying their damnest to keep the information from the people, but Neito wasn’t given a top notch education for nothing.  
  


The upcoming group date almost seemed like a distant memory. Neito was still aware of it, but he had this to think about instead. It was weird—with winning the Selection being his top priority for the last few months, it was abnormal for him to be focused on something else for a change.  
  


This was a bad time to be out of sorts. Neito was _sure_ an elimination was coming up, and he needed to be at his best for this date. He didn’t worry too much about things he normally spent hours on—like his hair, or what he was wearing. They were going to the beach, and he’d get wet and absolutely covered in sand either way.  
  


Neito would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little excited at the prospect of seeing Katsuki in his bathing suit. Neito held little to no interest for the blonde, but he had to appreciate Katsuki’s attractiveness.  
  


Neito didn’t get _nervous_ , but he knew he wouldn’t have the most attractive body there by far. Neito had lived a very sheltered life back home, and had exercised only out of necessity. His muscles weren’t particularly defined, though he wasn’t _ashamed_. Neito loved the way he looked, though he hated the thought of being outdone by his competition.  
  


He’d just have to try and keep the others away from Katsuki most of the day. At least, stop any one-on-one moments he sees. He’ll be sure to butt in on any conversations he notices, and otherwise take up as much of Katsuki’s time as he can.  
  


Not to mention, he needs to talk to Katsuki about what he’s found out. Neito’s a certifiable douche, he knows that much, but he’s not _that_ much of a douche. As cruel as he can be, Neito cares for his nation. He doesn’t want Shizuoka to have to go to war, and that means coming clean. If asked _how_ he knows, he can make something up. Maybe about passing by after getting lost down a particularly confusing set of halls, and overhearing the incriminating conversation.  
  


It was something for future Neito to worry about. He’d woken up especially early to get ready, only to realize he really only needed a bathing suit and a T-shirt to wear during the ride there. One of his maids had timidly suggested bringing a sweatshirt or blanket, since it was still cold here, even though it’d be warm where they were going.  
  


He’d hummed thoughtfully, and decidedly grabbed both.  
  


He was one of the first ones outside. The cold air bit at his exposed legs, but the sweatshirt helped keep his upper body warm. A carriage sat out front in wait, a straight-laced coachman at the front, facing firmly forwards. He didn’t acknowledge Neito’s arrival, though Neito thought he saw the man’s eyes flicker briefly in his direction.  
  


Mina was the next to arrive, clearly not having the same common sense as Neito to bring something warmer to wear—Neito firmly ignored the voice in his head reminding him his maid had suggested the idea—for the wait and the ride. She stood beside Neito, teeth chattering as she rubbed shaking fingers up and down her arms to try and bring some warmth to them.  
  


Shoto ended up being the last to arrive, decked out in a warm-looking sweatshirt, topped over by a winter coat. He’d had the sense to bring a blanket as well, which he immediately went to offer to a shivering Izuku, before thinking better of it and standing firmly in place with a put-off expression.  
  


“Alright,” Aizawa said, his voice coming from Neito’s left. Neito was ashamed to say he jumped, not having realized the man was even there. “Go in one at a time. Form a line, now.”  
  


Neito managed to squeeze his way into the middle, proceeded by Eijiro. Katsuki was the first to board the carriage, followed directly by Izuku and then Ochaco and then Neito himself. He sat himself in the far left corner, directly across from Katsuki.  
  


Shoto went to sit across from Neito, and to his right, beside where Izuku resided dutifully at Katsuki’s side. The greenette promptly called over to Ochaco, scooting over and making room for her to sit in between him and Shoto. To Neito’s amusement, and Shoto’s annoyance, she did so, but not without a mildly confused and slightly concerned expression on her annoyingly expressive face.  
  


Eijiro ended up being the one to take a seat to Neito’s right, followed by Mina. Aizawa came in last, sitting as far from Mina as he could manage without seeming rude. The pink-haired girl hardly paid mind to his presence, rambling on about something or other to an eager Eijiro.  
  


Neito kept to himself, gazing solemnly out the window at the scenery as it passed. This date was nerve-wracking—not only because of the looming elimination hanging over all of their heads, but because of what Neito intended to tell Katsuki.

* * *

Mina slumped over mid-rant, falling fast asleep the moment her head touched a soft shoulder. Eijiro wasn’t sure whether he should be laughing or mortified that she’d fallen onto _Aizawa’s_ shoulder, but the man merely glanced in her direction, sighed, and looked back out the window with a resigned frown.  
  


Eijiro considered moving her, before deciding that she might wake up if he jostled her. If Aizawa was bothered, Eijiro was sure he’d simply say as much rather than riding it out.  
  


Eijiro turned to his left in an attempt to make quiet conversation with Neito, only to have the blonde fix him with a steely-eyed glare. Eijiro fought down a shiver. He turned facing forwards, listening in on the pleasant conversation between Izuku, Katsuki, and Ochaco, and wondering if he should join in.  
  


“Have you ever been to the beach before, Kacchan?” Izuku asked, teeth chattering through his smile. Shoto looked like he wanted to offer him the blanket he’d brought, but refrained. Weird.  
  


“Yeah,” Katsuki said simply. He wasn’t wearing any heavy coat, or particularly warm clothing, but managed to seem entirely unaffected by the chilly air. “But I’ve mostly just seen it in passing.”  
  


Ochaco sighed wistfully, “I bet it’s so much fun! That’s what I’ve heard, at least. I live too far away to visit.”  
  


“I’ve been before!” Izuku gushed, eyes shimmering with excitement. “Just in passing, though, like Kacchan. I lived near Dagobah beach, and I got assigned a job there a couple summers ago. It used to be a dump, but it looks really pretty now after someone cleaned it up!”  
  


“That’s so cool!” Eijiro interjected. “I’ve always wanted to go to the beach, but never really had the time, y’know?”  
  


“Exactly!”  
  


“Or the money . . .”  
  


“Whatever.”  
  


They all talked over each other, but Eijiro could make out their responses just fine.  
  


“Stop chattering your teeth, damn nerd,” Katsuki said suddenly, nudging Izuku in the ribs with his elbow. “It’s giving me a fucking headache.”  
  


“S-Sorry, Kacchan!” Izuku said, pressing his lips firmly together to keep his teeth from chattering. It was clear he was still shivering, as were almost all of them.  
  


Ochaco sidled slightly closer to Izuku, trying to share warmth between them. It didn’t seem to make that much of a difference, though Eijiro was sure it was better than nothing.  
  


Shoto finally spoke up, “You could have my blanket if you’re cold—”  
  


“We’re _fine._ ”  
  


A lapse of shocked silence fell over the inhabitants of the carriage at Izuku’s icy tone. Eijiro hadn’t been expecting that from him, especially directed towards Shoto, of all people. They used to be attached at the hip, though, now that Eijiro thought about it, he hadn’t seen them together a lot recently . . .  
  


What could’ve happened between them for them to be distancing themselves like this? Izuku was one of the nicest guys Eijiro had had the pleasure of meeting. Whatever Shoto did to get _him_ upset, it must’ve been bad.  
  


Izuku cleared his throat, looking awkwardly between the confused and surprised gazes fixated on him. The only one looking away was Shoto, though Eijiro thought he might've saw a flash of hurt and . . . regret? . . flash in his eyes. “I meant, we’re fine. Thanks anyways.”  
  


It was painfully insincere. The conversation picked up slowly after that, though Izuku didn’t join back in. He had his eyes fixed to the ground, expression carefully blank. Eijiro could tell he was thinking, but the usual stream of mumbles was gone.  
  


_What the hell happened between those two?_

* * *

It was cold.  
  


Izuku had been so fixated on the fact that they were going to the beach, that he forgot exactly how cold it was outside. Where they were going, Katsuki had said would be remarkably warmer. Wherever they were now, it was gradually getting warmer and warmer as they went. Goosebumps still ran up and down Izuku’s arms and legs, but the long sleeves and the warmth Ochaco exuded helped.  
  


He felt bad for snapping at Shoto. He could feel Ochaco’s concerned gaze burning holes into the side of his head, but not once did he turn to meet her eyes. This wasn’t something he could go to her about—or anyone, for that matter.  
  


The easiest thing for Izuku to do would be to avoid Shoto. He’d been managing thus far, despite how much his heart ached with every dismissal. The hurt in Shoto’s eyes was unbearable to see, so Izuku simply stopped looking.  
  


_I’m here for Kacchan_ , he reminded himself firmly. His eyes flicked over to the blonde’s still form, gazing out the window without any mind to the others around him. Izuku felt a surge of warmth well up in his chest at the sight of him, reminding exactly why he was here. _I love him. I can’t forget that.  
  
_

Did it matter whether or not he potentially loved Shoto, too? Izuku didn’t think so. He stomped down those feelings, and forced them into the darkest recesses of his mind. Izuku didn’t have any room to doubt how he felt about Katsuki.  
  


“ETA should be less than an hour, now,” Aizawa called out in his usual monotone.  
  


Mina had long since woken up, apologizing profusely for falling asleep on the stoic man. He’d huffed, but hadn’t said anything else. The pink-haired girl had turned back towards her friend, chattering on like she hadn’t fallen asleep at all.  
  


Izuku wondered if he should try falling asleep. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to think about Ochaco’s curious gaze, or any of the warring thoughts swirling in his head.  
  


When he shut his eyes, his thoughts only grew louder. His eyes flew open, but the persistent thoughts continued on, in a voice that sounded too much like his own.  
  


_You love Shoto. Why bother fighting it?  
  
_

No, I love Kacchan. Shoto and I are just friends.  
  


_‘Just friends’ don’t kiss each other the way you and Shoto did.  
  
_

That was an accident. And he initiated!  
  


_But you kissed back. It’s because you want him, don’t you?  
  
_

I want _Kacchan!  
  
_

_Maybe part of you. But another part of you longs for Shoto, doesn’t it? Don’t fight it, you know it’s true.  
  
_

You’re lying.  
  


_I can’t be. I’m_ you _.  
  
_

“Shut _up!”  
  
_

It took Izuku a second of heavy silence and weighted stares to realize he’d said that _out loud_. God, curse him and his habit of saying his thoughts aloud.  
  


“Sorry,” he muttered, ducking his head. “Um, bad dream.”  
  


No one questioned him. Izuku let out a small sigh of relief, sagging down in his seat. His head had quieted considerably, leaving him with an empty feeling and weighted silence.  
  


He stopped shivering by the time they’d arrived. Ochaco had slumped over, fast asleep, somewhere along the way, drooling onto Izuku’s shoulder. He didn’t see any point in complaining when he’d be getting doused in saltwater sometime soon, anyways.  
  


“Woohoo!” Mina cheered, seeming the most enthused. The rest were either just waking up—those including Ochaco, Shoto, and Katsuki—or still seemed tired from waking up early. Izuku was mostly distracted, but Mina’s enthusiasm helped to cheer him up. “I’m so excited! I can’t wait to get a tan.”  
  


Izuku glanced down at his own arm, wincing at how pale he’d gotten in just a few short months. He worked out of the house a lot in the past, leaving him with a constant, healthy tan and lots of freckles. Since coming to the palace, he didn’t get the chance to go outside nearly as often. This might be a good chance to regain some of the natural tan color of his skin.  
  


“Hell yeah!” Eijiro agreed, pumping a fist. The door opened, held that way by the coachman on the other side. His expression remained professionally empty as always, eyes staring unblinkingly forwards. Eijiro was the first out of the carriage, tipping his head in the coachman’s direction as he did so, “Thanks, man.”  
  


The coachman showed no obvious signs of acknowledgement, though Izuku thought he might’ve seen the corners of his lips twitch upwards.  
  


Izuku was the last one out, directly following a still tired Ochaco. The warm air hit his face refreshingly, washing away any of the lingering cold that still clung to his bare skin. He could see the beach from where they were, a short trek away from where the coachmen had parked the carriage.  
  


“When would you like me back, sir?” Izuku could distinctly pick up on the coachman’s unfamiliar voice coming from his left. He was addressing Aizawa directly, head lowered in a show of admission and respect.  
  


“Three hours should be fine,” Aizawa said simply, a clear dismissal in his tone.  
  


The coachman nodded and left, leaving the group within walking distance of the beatific sight of the ocean.  
  


The sand was hot, but not unbearably so. Izuku nearly slipped when he took his first step onto the hot sand, feeling the odd material sink beneath his toes. He hadn’t been expecting the uneven surface, since it had been so long since he’d gotten the chance to visit Dagobah back home.  
  


“Woah,” Ochaco breathed out, staring in awe at the ocean before them.  
  


It looked gorgeous in the early morning light. Sunlight reflected off of the cool blue surface, twinkling in and out of sight with the uneven waves. Izuku longed to dive right in, and let the unearthly blue swallow him up into its depths. He almost did, before being tugged back by a concerned Ochaco.  
  


“Do you think its bad I don’t know how to swim?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to so bad go back and spell Shoto's name as "Shouto" instead of "Shoto" but this fic is so long and I don't think I have the patience
> 
> Once again, sorry for splitting it up into two parts! I could've tried cramming in the writing for the rest of the date today, but I've still got schoolwork to work on and I didn't want the writing to come off as shitty because I was rushing it. I should have a lot more free time over the weekend, and therefore more time to write.
> 
> Here's a list of the remaining Elite plus their caste:  
> Kirishima Eijiro - Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku - Six  
> Todoroki Shoto - Two  
> Ashido Mina - Five  
> Monoma Neito - Two  
> Uraraka Ochaco - Seven
> 
> Next chapter will be a continuation of this date and the elimination! I'll have it out on Tuesday


	65. And Then There Were Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was not looking forwards to this elimination at all :<
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> **(P.S. please read the end notes regarding the update schedule for this fic)**

Ochaco can definitively say she hadn’t led a privileged life growing up. That doesn’t mean she’s ungrateful—her parents had tried their best, and Ochaco could appreciate that—but there were always things she knew she was missing out on.  
  


Swimming was one of them. The area she lived in was cold and frigid year-long, meaning swimming wasn’t a common activity. Some families could afford to travel, or even get themselves an indoor pool, though that was only Two’s and the occasional Three’s.  
  


Ochaco didn’t have the luxury of going for something as simple as a swim, and she’d never particularly minded. It goes without saying, then, that she wouldn’t know how to do something as simple as swimming. It had never been necessary, when the only bodies of water she’d been in hadn’t been deep enough for it to be necessary.  
  


There was, of course, a pool at the palace. Ochaco wanted to try it, but nerves got the best of her. She didn’t know how to swim, and she really didn’t think it’d be worth it to learn if she ended up having to go back home anyways.  
  


She hadn’t so much as visited the pool. Here—with the sparkling ocean waves crashing down at her feet—Ochaco doesn’t think she can resist. She was nervous about how Izuku might react to this little tidbit about her, but out of everyone there, she’s absolutely _sure_ he won’t judge her.  
  


“It’s alright!” Izuku chirps, gripping her shoulder comfortingly. She can feel the warmth of his palm through the thin fabric of her coverup, and her fears melt away with the warmth of his smile and the reassuring touch. “We won’t be going deep enough for it to be necessary.”  
  


“Oh,” she said simply, flicking her gaze between the cool water and her friend. “We won’t?”  
  


He shrugged, “It gets kind of dangerous if you go too deep. Sometimes the waves will knock you off your feet, though, so you can stick close to me in case that happens.”  
  


Ochaco breathed out a soft sigh of relief. Admitting the fact that she couldn’t swim had been one thing, but it’d be embarrassing for everyone else to see her flailing about. Once again, she found herself glad for having made a friend in Izuku.  
  


“Thanks, Deku!” Izuku’s smile widens, and Ochaco feels herself copying the action out of habit. “Let’s go put on sunscreen.”  
  


Ochaco felt self-conscious in nothing but a bathing suit, but Izuku reassured her that she looked great. His smile was so earnest, that it didn’t seem to leave any room for doubt.  
  


Mina didn’t seem to have the same qualms as Ochaco, strutting her stuff in a bikini that she filled out perfectly.  
  


“Gosh, I wish I had your confidence . . .” Ochaco muttered, chuckling nervously.  
  


Mina bumped her shoulder, smiling assuredly, “You’ve got no reason to be nervous. You look amazing!”  
  


_Not as amazing as you_. Ochaco didn’t say the thought aloud, but she didn’t simply brush it aside either.  
  


Mina chatted conversationally as they both applied sunscreen to their arms and legs. Ochaco made sure to put extra on her shoulders, since Mina advised towards that being a sensitive spot to the sun.  
  


“There’s not a single time I’ve gone swimming and _haven’t_ burnt my shoulders to a crisp,” she warned, applying a whole glob of sunscreen to her own shoulders. “Get the tops of your feet, too. I always forget about them, but its super awkward wearing closed shoes when your feet are burnt.”  
  


Ochaco took the advice to heart, making sure to get sunscreen in all the usual places Mina had said people forgot about. She never would have thought to get sunscreen on her ears, or spray some on her scalp.  
  


Mina got her back for her, which Ochaco thanked her profusely for. She felt awkward asking one of the guys, which Mina happily replied that she felt the same way. In turn, Ochaco put some sunscreen on Mina’s back, and they gave it some time to dry before going their separate ways.  
  


Ochaco met back up with Izuku, who happened to be walking in her direction. He smiled when he caught sight of her, holding out a hand for her to grab onto. She did so, but not without blushing at the implications of the action.  
  


“Ready to head out?” He asked, brushing some hair out of his eyes.  
  


Ochaco wasn’t entirely sure, but she told him yes, regardless.  
  


He pointed towards a large group of people, evenly spread out and chilling under a bunch of umbrellas. “See that cluster of umbrellas?” Ochaco nodded. “We’ll use that as a checkpoint so we can meet back up with everyone easier. We’ll naturally drift in the water, so we’ll just try and align ourselves with the umbrellas when we get too far away.”  
  


“Alright!” Ochaco cheered, pumping a fist with her free hand. “Let’s do this!”

* * *

Katsuki is painfully aware of all of his possible suitors, surrounding him in skimpy bathing suits.  
  


The biggest problem is, they all look so _good_. And he _hates_ how much he takes notice of the fact, try as he might to ignore it.  
  


He supposes it’s a nice distraction to what else he may be thinking about—that being the elimination he has planned. He already has someone in mind, though that isn’t to say he doesn’t feel bad. One way or another, he’s become attached to the six men and women remaining, and Katsuki can’t bear to see any of them go.  
  


It won’t be easy, but Katsuki’s been dragging this out too long. He can’t rush love, but he can’t necessarily dawdle because he’ll _‘miss his friends’_. Katsuki would never get himself caught up in some cheesy bullshit like that.  
  


The sight of Eijiro’s toned abs is just enough to distract him, and Katsuki takes it for what it is. Part of him feels bad because he _knows_ he’s staring, but the other part of him kind of wants to reach out and run his hands over Eijiro’s tanned skin.  
  


“Um, Katsuki?”  
  


Katsuki snaps his gaze up to meet Eijiro’s own. The redhead is blushing profusely and averting his eyes, so there’s goes any hopes of him not noticing Katsuki’s staring.  
  


“Hah?” Katsuki asks, trying to fight down a blush of his own. “What’d ya say, shitty hair?”  
  


Eijiro coughs awkwardly, eyes bashfully meeting the ground as he shuffles his feet. “I was wondering if you wanted any help with your sunscreen.”  
  


Katsuki blinks stupidly, staring for a full thirty seconds before his mouth falls open into the shape of an ‘o’. The thought of Eijiro rubbing sunscreen into his back—if he wasn’t blushing before, he sure as hell was now.  
  


“What-the-fuck-ever,” Katsuki snaps, hating how his voice cracked near the end.  
  


“. . . Right.”  
  


Katsuki’s sure they’re both blushing messes as Eijiro takes his sunscreen and pours a glob into his palm. He rubs his hands together, and presses a cold, sunscreen-slick hand against the nape of Katsuki’s neck. The cold touch makes Katsuki shiver, but otherwise he doesn’t make a move.  
  


Eijiro’s hands are gentle against his back, rubbing circles along his spine to rub in the sunscreen. Katsuki’s nerves alight with fire with every gentle brush of the hand, blood rushing to pool in his cheeks fast enough to give him a headache.  
  


“Done!” Eijiro chirps, back to his normal, lively self. There’s still the faint traces of red dusting his cheeks, but he drowns the bits of color out with a wide smile. “Ready to get in the water?”  
  


Katsuki grabs his wrist before he has the chance to go anywhere. Eijiro doesn’t resist, simply turning to Katsuki with an excited look in his eyes. Katsuki fights down a smile, forcing an eye roll in its place. He taps the bottle of sunscreen Eijiro was still holding.  
  


“You forgot your own sunscreen, dumbass,” Katsuki says bluntly, snatching the bottle out of Eijiro’s hands and squirting out some onto his palm. “Turn.”  
  


Eijiro complies, brushing his hair away from his back as best he can with the short length. It doesn’t comply very well, but Katsuki goes quick enough that he doesn’t have to worry about holding it back for long.  
  


He rubs in the sunscreen with quick, precise strokes, copying Eijiro’s circular-like movements near the base of his spine.  
  


When he’s finished, Eijiro turns to shoot him a thousand-watt smile that does _not_ make Katsuki’s heart pound. “Thanks, ‘Suki!”  
  


Katsuki scowls, averting his eyes. He lets Eijiro pull him out into the water, probably washing off all of the sunscreen Katsuki had just applied to his back. They waded out until they were waist-deep, meeting up with Mina who was already drenched head-to-toe in salt water.  
  


She was hacking up some of the gross tasting stuff as it were, nearly getting crushed under a large wave in her distraction.  
  


“Fucking idiot,” Katsuki mutters, just loud enough that she can hear it. She jumps over the next incoming wave before responding, lips pressed firmly together.  
  


“These waves are huge!” She says, a mix between excitement and nervousness. “And the water tastes _so_ bad.”  
  


“That’s why you don’t fucking drink it, raccoon eyes!” Katsuki snapped, rolling his eyes at her antics and almost getting a wave to the face for his effort.  
  


“I’m not trying to!” Mina brushes wet strands of hair out of her eyes, shaking her hair out and successfully slinging salt water all over Katsuki and Eijiro.  
  


“Fucking _excuse_ you,” Katsuki growls, lunging forwards to dunk her under the next incoming wave. To his annoyance, she pulls him down with her, and he’s assaulted from all over by an abundance of salt water.  
  


He comes back up, only to get knocked over by another wave. His eyes burn from the constant assault, but he comes back at Mina with a vengeance, them splashing and dunking each other relentlessly as Eijiro tries to play mediator.

  
Katsuki hardly notices the new presence wading through the water in their direction until there’s a warm, wet hand pressing against his shoulder, and a familiar voice in his ear.  
  


“We need to talk.”

* * *

The last place Shouta thought he’d find himself was the _beach_. Shouta avoided the sun at all costs, as he burnt to a crisp even with the highest grade sunblock. Hizashi was the complete opposite—he _loved_ the beach. Absolutely adored it.  
  


They’d been there together many times before, along with a few friends—mostly Nemuri. Shouta would curl up in some comfy hotel room they’d rented out for the week, reading a book or watching something until Hizashi and Nemuri got back. Then they’d either go shopping, which Shouta begrudgingly went along with because Nemuri said he supposedly gave the best advice, or go and grab some food.  
  


Hizashi never left the beach without a new trinket in tow. Shouta wasn’t a fan of sand, water, or sunlight, but he didn’t mind shopping if it meant getting his husband a gift. Hizashi was reliably inconsistent, meaning that anything that seemed to stand out to Shouta, Hizashi would probably like.  
  


His biggest problem was his indecisiveness. Logic always seemed to evade him when Hizashi was brought into the picture. He’d already found five different things that he’s sure Hizashi would love, and is stuck with the painful decision of choosing.  
  


Would buying all of them be that big of a deal? It was rare Hizashi brought back more than one thing, but perhaps he’d appreciate Shouta’s effort.  
  


In the end, he put back one of the items, and purchased the rest. He was sure Hizashi would love all of them, and the thought brought a small smile to his face. He and Hizashi hadn’t had much alone time recently—but maybe they ought to try and make some time for each other. Shouta could really do for a day spent doing nothing but spending time with his husband.

* * *

Shoto didn’t much like the water, so he kept to himself, ducking underneath an umbrella he’d went and got from one of the nearby stores. He kept his T-shirt on, seeing no reason to remove it when he had no intention of swimming.  
  


No one approached him, which Shoto was grateful for. He certainly wouldn’t have minded if _Izuku_ had been the one to come up to him, but after the way the greenette had snapped at him before, Shoto seriously believed there may be no way of salvaging their friendship. He’d really screwed up, and it wasn’t Izuku’s fault that he wanted to keep his distance from Shoto.  
  


That didn’t stop Shoto from missing his best friend—and the love of his life. Through it all, Shoto had only succeeded in falling _harder_ , especially after getting a small taste of what being with Izuku might entail. He’d tasted like pure heaven against Shoto’s lips, and he so desperately wanted to lean in for another, slightly longer kiss and relish in the feeling the way he hadn’t had a chance to before.  
  


Of course, the mere thought was preposterous. That didn’t stop Izuku from invading his dreams at night, whispering words Shoto longed to here. Alas, he’d never hear them outside of his mind.  
  


Izuku looked hellishly good in a bathing suit, even with a shirt on while he was in the water. The soaked fabric clung to the curvature of his body, outlining everything Shoto couldn’t see on the surface. It just reminded him yet again of what he’d never be able to have—and gave him a perfect opportunity to openly ogle Izuku without getting called out on it. So what if Izuku was slightly painful to look at after everything that had gone down? Shoto was still _very_ much so attracted to him, and he didn’t see that fact changing any time soon.  
  


“Aren’t you getting in?” A distasteful voice came from Shoto’s left. He had to squint in order to make out blonde hair and gray eyes, Neito’s features blurrily coming together through the thick haze of the sun. “I sure as hell am. Can’t waste an opportunity with Prince Bakugou.”  
  


Shoto shrugged, expression indifferent. “I’m not really the swimming kind of guy. And the waves look rough. Good luck, I suppose.”  
  


Neito studied him for a solid, tense minute. Shoto tried not to let his discomfort show on his face, hoping he wasn’t failing too miserably.  
  


What Neito said next made Shoto’s stomach drop like a stone.  
  


“I know that you and Midoriya kissed.”  
  


Shoto was silent, though he was sure his panic was evident enough. _How the hell did he find out?_ Shoto hadn’t told anyone besides Dabi, and he doubted Izuku had told anyone either. There was a chance he might’ve told Ochaco, but Shoto seriously doubted it.  
  


So, just how did _Neito_ , of all people, know? He’s the _last_ person either of them would tell, especially because he’s made his ulterior motives pretty clear from the start. He wouldn’t hesitate to throw either of them under the bus.  
  


“Your silence confirms it,” Neito continued mindlessly, as if he hadn’t just dropped a huge bomb in Shoto’s mind. “But I won’t tell.” Shoto could barely let out a sigh of relief before Neito was continuing, “For a _price._ ”  
  


Shoto tried not to let his apprehensiveness apparent. “And what would that be?”  
  


Neito smiled cruelly, and that was evidence enough that Shoto had made a _big_ mistake.

* * *

“What the hell did you want to talk about?”  
  


Neito’s stern expression and tense words had been enough to set Katsuki slightly over the edge. Neito had always seemed playful, and a bit—a _lot_ —competitive, and he could be serious at times, Katsuki was sure. Though, he’d never seen him look this solemn since his stay at the palace, and it was starting to fray at Katsuki’s nerves.  
  


He tried to play off his growing anxiety through anger. It was his go-to method for playing off considerably weak emotions, especially around his mom. Katsuki didn’t _cry_ when he was sad, he yelled. Until he was alone in the privacy of his room with nothing but his blank walls and Akira’s quiet comfort.  
  


“It’s about the representatives from Akuyaku,” Neito said gravely, head bowed and eyes trained on the ground. “They’re here to sabotage Shizuoka! They don’t care about the alliance at all—they’re going to do _something_ when you announce the winner of the Selection, but I don’t know what.”  
  


That was . . . considerably better than what Katsuki had expected him to say. While it wasn’t _good_ news on any front, it wasn’t anything new, either. He’d come to realize this with time, and while he hadn’t explicitly known the _when_ , his intuition had helped a lot in that regard.  
  


“Yeah, yeah, it’s alright,” he growled out, trying not to come off as too ungrateful. While he _had_ known before, it was considerate of Neito to come to tell him. “I already knew. We’re trying to outsmart those bastards.”  
  


Neito gaped for a moment, before clearing his throat and nodding quietly. “Good to know. If you need help or advice, keep in mind I’ve been raised learning how to handle precarious situations such as this one. Don’t forget that.”  
  


Katsuki nodded, pushing the information to the back of his mind. He had Eijiro, Akira, Aizawa, and Kendo to brainstorm with, but it was always good to have more capable minds joining the fight. Neito would be a good asset, since he was so well-versed in almost any subject Katsuki could think of. Strategy was Neito’s greatest weapon, and he wielded it with a fierce confidence that had even Katsuki slightly terrified.  
  


For now, though, he’d been trying to keep his mind _off_ of this. He and Eijiro had a plan, and it’d be set in motion in less than a week. Katsuki would need to drag out the Selection a bit longer than was scheduled in order to fit in their plan, but that was alright. Keeping the Akuyakuans from figuring out their game was his top priority.  
  


Their biggest threat seemed to be Izuku’s father—Hisashi. Katsuki still didn’t know much about him, but the others all seemed to turn to him for guidance. He led them with a soothing air and all the confidence Katsuki wished he had. Katsuki could act like he knew what the fuck he was doing most of the time, but this guy had them _all_ figured out.  
  


Katsuki wouldn’t lose this war. He had too much at stake—including his nation’s people and his own life.

* * *

The water splashed Izuku’s chest and back with a fierce intensity. They’d only gone waist deep, but the height of the waves left both Ochaco and Izuku entirely soaked.  
  


Ochaco was still firmly gripping his hand after she’d let go once, and starting panicking out of fear she’d get lost or drown. Izuku’s hand was burning from her hard grip, but he was having too much fun to notice.  
  


Some water would be terribly refreshing about now. He’d swallowed at least a cup full of salt water, and his throat felt dry and parched from the terrible taste. Ochaco had gagged when she’d swallowed a mouthful on accident, but she’d bounced back quickly. Afterwards, she took each bits of seawater that she ended up accidentally swallowing or got in her mouth in stride, moving on as if it didn’t even affect her.  
  


The smell of salt was strong. Izuku would need to wash his hair at least two times to get out the cold, brittle feel. His bangs fell into his eyes more often than not, dripping painful saltwater into his eyes on occasion. He’d howl, and press his free hand up against them, only to rub in more salt since his hand was covered in water.  
  


They only stayed in the water for an hour, but it felt like three with how tired Izuku already was. The sun had sufficiently sucked up all his energy, leaving him positively drained, but smiling all the while.  
  


Ochaco wrung out her hair with a practiced hand, shaking as much excess water off of herself as she could.  
  


“Hey, Todoroki’s got an umbrella! Think he’ll let us sit under with him?” Ochaco asked, seemingly oblivious to Izuku and Shoto’s _predicament_. Though, when Izuku looked at her, her expression made it evident enough that she knew _exactly_ what she was suggesting.  
  


“Uh, y’know, I think I’ll pass . . .”  
  


“Okay, spill it,” Ochaco demanded, hands firmly on her hips. “What happened between you two? You’re best friends! Or you _were,_ at least.”  
  


“ _We’re_ best friends,” Izuku corrected. Ochaco’s eyes narrowed into a glare. “Listen, Shoto and I—we’re just not talking right now, alright?”  
  


“Don’t give me that!” Ochaco sighed, dragging a hand down her face. “You just said we’re _best friends_ , right? You can talk to me.”  
  


“It’s not really my secret to tell,” Izuku answered honestly, a hand moving to rub sheepishly at the back of his neck. “If you want to know so bad, go ask Shoto. I’m going to go get us some towels.”  
  


Izuku was gone before she had a chance to respond.

* * *

Shoto could see Ochaco coming out of the corner of his eye, though he chose not to respond until she got closer. He didn’t say a word—simply fixed her with a blank stare.  
  


If Shoto wasn’t used to Enji’s wrath, he might’ve been scared with the fearsome glare Ochaco had fixed him with. She was walking with a purpose, despite her uneven footing on the sand. It nearly made Shoto shiver, but he suppressed the urge.  
  


She didn’t say a word, simply stood towering—or towering as well as she could at 5’ 1—over his blank, sitting form. Shoto turned fully to face her, expression carefully devoid of emotion.  
  


“Yes?”  
  


“What happened with you and Deku?” Her words cut straight to the point, leaving no room for deception. Shoto almost wanted to be honest with her. Too many people knew already, though, and Shoto didn’t want to end up somehow ruining Izuku’s chances, even if it _was_ only Ochaco.  
  


“Can’t say,” he said simply, blinking slowly at the sight of her slowly growing scowl. The expression was oddly reminiscent of Katsuki’s. “You ought to ask Izuku.”  
  


“I _did_ ,” she groaned, slapping a hand against her forehead. “At least tell me _something_. I’ve never seen you two fight like this.”  
  


Shoto paused, wondering how much he could tell her without revealing anything crucial. After a moment of thought, he concluded he could settle for just remaining vague.  
  


“We fought,” he said. “I messed up, and Izuku’s upset, and he has every right to be. I’d like to fix things, but I’m unsure how, and honestly believe it will just make things worse. Keeping my distance would be for the best.”  
  


Ochaco was already shaking her head, “Nope, I don’t wanna hear any of that self-deprecating stuff, Todoroki. I don’t care _what_ happened, but you still have to try and make things right. At least apologize. Let _me_ worry about getting him to give you a chance.”  
  


Her strong advice and willingness to help made Shoto feel that much worse about what he was about to do.  
  


Ochaco left after that to meet back up with Izuku. Shoto let her go, standing up and heading towards their stuff after the pair had gone back towards the water. They stayed close to shore, picking out seashells not too far from where their things were stationed.  
  


Shoto side-eyed where he’d seen Katsuki last at, talking with Neito about _something_. Whatever it was, it had seemed serious, though hadn’t lasted long. He was still in the general vicinity, and hadn’t yet gone back out into the water.  
  


_Perfect_.  
  


After a minute or so, Shoto made eye contact. As he did, he tugged purposefully on his ear. Shoto couldn’t quite make out Katsuki’s expression, but he figured that he got the message.  
  


Katsuki came over to him a moment later, pulling out a water bottle of his own and taking a long sip.  
  


“You tugged your ear,” he pointed out bluntly, after drawing the bottle away from his lips. Shoto took a sip of his own, avoiding Katsuki’s gaze. “What’d ya wanna say?”  
  


Shoto took a deep breath—in, out—and reminded himself that he was doing this for Izuku’s sake.  
  


“There’s something you need to know about Uraraka.”

* * *

Ochaco went home in tears that night after her elimination. She was allowed back at the palace for one final night, though Katsuki had regretfully announced that it would be her last. From then on, she was dismissed from the Selection.  
  


Deep down, Ochaco had had a feeling it was going to be her. Katsuki hadn’t explained why, and Ochaco was too busy crying to ask. Izuku had tried his best to comfort her, though it hadn’t gone quite as well as he’d hoped, considering he ended up in tears as well.  
  


Izuku offered to spend the night in her room, sleeping on the floor in case she didn’t want to be alone. As badly as Ochaco wanted to accept, she declined the offer and laid in silence all night.  
  


She didn’t sleep. In the morning, she left the palace and didn’t come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will be going on a... holiday break, of sorts. The holidays aren't why I'm planning to not update for a bit, but it's convenient that I'm doing this around the time of Thanksgiving and Christmas. This fic has been loads of fun to write, but recently I've felt like I've just been rushing to get chapters out on time rather than spending time enjoying what I'm writing. For the sake of not losing interest, I'm going to take some time without updating, and just write without feeling pressured to get things done by a certain time. I'm not sure how long this break will last, but I definitely won't be updating again until after Christmas, and possibly after New Years. Because of this elongated break, I'd like to wish everyone early a happy Thanksgiving and Merry Christmas! I hope you can understand why I'm taking this much needed break for the time being.
> 
> Here's the list of the remaining Elite, now that the number has gone down to just five:  
> Kirishima Eijiro - Seven  
> Midoriya Izuku - Six  
> Todoroki Shoto - Two  
> Ashido Mina - Five  
> Monoma Neito - Two
> 
> I hope the elimination was... surprising? I've been stuck between Ochaco and one other person for this elimination, but I finally made up my mind. Personally, I don't ship Kacchaco, and struggle a lot writing scenes between them.
> 
> I also want to clarify, what Shoto told Katsuki about Ochaco was the "price" Monoma was talking about. It's Monoma's way of sabotaging his competitors without risking his own neck to do it
> 
> After the break, I'll start enacting the plan Eijiro and Katsuki came up with. That's going to take up a few long chapters to get through fully, but we'll be seeing quite a few cameos from characters we haven't seen much of, or any of at all.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and have happy holidays! Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, or kudo-ed this fic, I really appreciate your support and am thankful for each and every one of you amazing readers! <3


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